
TOM LOSELY 


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TOM LOSELY: 

BOY 


BY 

REV. J. E. COPUS, S. J. 

[cuthbert] 

Author of ‘'Harry Russell” “St. Cuthberfs” 
“ Shadows Lifted,” etc. 


With Frontispiece 


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NEW YORK, CINCINNATI, CHICAGO 

BENZIGER BROTHERS 

Printers to the Holy Apostolic See. 

1906. 





Uf'-rtARY of CO^'G^ESS 
Two Copies Rpcr-ivftri 

APR 24 1906 

j. Copi'rig-trt Entry . 

Ct No 

COPY b 


^ A 





BOOKS BY FATHER COPUS. 

In uniform binding, each with a Frontispiece. 
HARRY RUSSELL, a Rockland College 


Boy. i2mo, cloth $0.85 

ST. CUTHBERT’S. i2mo, cloth 0.85 

SHADOWS LIFTED. A sequel to “St. 

Cuthbert’s.” i2mo, cloth 0.85 

TOM LOSELY: BOY. i2mo, cloth 0.85 


For sale by all Catholic Booksellers, or 
mailed on receipt of price by the 
publishers, 

BENZIGER BROTHERS, 

New York: Cincinnati: Chicago: 

36-38 Barclay St. 343 Main St. 211-213 Madison St. 



Copyright, 1906, by Benziger Brothers. 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER I. PAGE 

Tom 7 

CHAPTER II. 

Fred 14 

CHAPTER HI. 

The Signals 23 

CHAPTER IV. 

That Game 31 

CHAPTER V. 

The Home-coming 37 

CHAPTER VI. 

Next Day 46 

CHAPTER VH. 

The Other Fellows 55 

CHAPTER VHI. 

How It Fared With Tom 64 

CHAPTER IX. 

Saturday 71 

CHAPTER X. 

The Wagon Ride 78 

CHAPTER XL 

Where Was Tom? 86 

CHAPTER XH. 

Out Early 93 


5 


6 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER XIII. page 

Tom’s First Day 103 

CHAPTER XIV. 

Tom Writes a Letter 109 

CHAPTER XV. 

Fortune 117 

CHAPTER XVI. 

Mr. McCann 122 

CHAPTER XVH. 

Tom’s Luck 131 

CHAPTER XVIH. 

How Tom Settled It 139 

CHAPTER XIX. 

Tom’s Sacrifice 147 

CHAPTER XX. 

Tom’s Presentiment 154 

CHAPTER XXL 

The Reward 161 

CHAPTER XXH. 

Foreshadows 170 

CHAPTER XXIII. 

Tom Has an Idea 176 

CHAPTER XXIV. 

Tom and Gerald 193 

CHAPTER XXV. 

Quicksilver ipg 

CHAPTER XXVI. 

A Narrow Escape 206 

CHAPTER XXVII. 

“ My ! It Hurted ! ” 212 

CHAPTER XXVIII. 

The Great Day 218 


TOM LOSELY: BOY 

CHAPTER I. 

TOM 


I ‘‘Yes, ma.’^ 

“Come into the house; it’s going to 

rain.” 

“ Yes, ma.” 

Mrs. Losely stepped back into the house and 
closed the door. Master Tom, with a neighbor- 
ing chum, was playing at keeping store in a 
green summer-house down the garden path. 

“ Oh, bother! Fred,” said undutiful Tom, “ ma 
always wants me to come into the house whenever 
I’m busy. What will all our customers do if I 
run away from the business? 

“ I guess I’ll forget to go. She won’t mind. 
Coffee, ma’am ? How much ? Some sugar-cured 
ham? Yes, ma’am, very fine, ma’am. The ad- 
dress, ma’am? I’ll send the boy with it right 
away,” and Master Tom took down an imaginary 
address in an imaginary note-book. 

“ Seven dollars and twenty-three cents, ma’am. 
Thank you, ma’am. I’ll be sure to send the 
things this morning,” and the embryo storekeeper 

7 


8 


TOM 


bowed the customer of his imagination out of 
the green arbor. He had forgotten all about 
his mother's call. 

In a few minutes a few very large rain-drops 
began to rattle on the grape leaves above the 
boys' heads. 

My! did you hear that, Fred? " as the drops 
fell faster. 

Yes, and you’ll catch it. Your mother called 
you, you know, and now you are going to get 
wet through.” 

So will you.” 

“ Oh ! I don’t mind. My ma didn’t call me. 
Yours did. 'Sides, I have no big white collar to 
spoil. You have.” 

Tom Losely began to wish he had obeyed some 
minutes before. If his collar should be spoiled 
he knew it meant a whipping. He was not cer- 
tain whether there was not one already coming 
for his present disobedience. To add further 
to his uneasy qualms, he heard his mother’s voice 
again. As she had not heard him come indoors 
she was sure he was still in the summer-house; 
but to stir his conscience further she called ; 

“ Tommy ! Tommy I are you in the arbor yet? ” 

Master Tom did not answer. 

Thomas ! ” severely. 

Still no signal of recognition from Tom. 


TOM 


9 


^^Very well, sir. You shall have a whipping 
when your father comes home.’^ 

Oh, ma ! 

Remembrance of past, but not in the ordinary 
sense paternal interviews with his father had 
drawn forth the exclamation involuntarily from 
the boy’s lips. 

Come right into the house at once. Come, 

sir.” 

May I bring Fred Thorncroft with me, ma? 
He’s been keeping store with me all the morn- 
ing.” 

No, send Fred home at once.” 

Oh, ma ! we’ve got all our things out on the 
counter.” 

“Now, Tom, do you hear me? Send Fred 
home, and come in at once. Don’t you see it’s 
already raining fast.” 

“ All right, ma. Fm coming.” 

Still the little man did not make his appear- 
ance at the entrance of the grape arbor. He 
had to exchange, in boy fashion, many hasty 
confidences with his chum before they parted — 
Fred to cross the alley and run the length of 
his own garden; Tom to make a race for the 
kitchen door. 

In the meantime the storm had gathered 
strength. When the two boys finally parted, it 
was raining very hard. Tom ran up the garden 


10 


TOM 


path as fast as a pair of sturdy eight-year-old legs 
could carry him. He had his coat turned up 
over his head to save the precious broad white 
collar, which, if spoiled, he knew would be the 
occasion of severe punishment. 

Perhaps it was owing to his eagerness to re- 
pair his former disobedience, or it may be it 
was really in punishment for it, that Tom met 
with a most unexpected disaster on his way up 
the garden path. The rain had made the clay 
walk quite slippery. Here and there were little 
pools of water. In his haste, trying to “ run 
between the drops,” Tom’s foot slipped and he 
fell prone into one of the muddy, yellow pud- 
dles. His white frilled shirt, with its immacu- 
late collar, was utterly ruined. From his elbows 
down and from his knees up his clothes were 
covered with sticky yellow clay. Was a boy 
ever in a worse plight? It was raining hard 
enough to wet him thoroughly. The delay of 
the fall was sufficient to cause him to be 
drenched. 

What did Tom do in such a predicament? 
Boy-like — eight-year-old-boy-like — he simply 
lay where he had fallen and howled. This 
brought his mother a third time to the door. 

Get up, Tom. What are you lying there 
for?” called his now angry mother. 


TOM 


II 


“ I slipped and — and fell down — and spoiled 
my c-collar/’ howled the besmirched Tom. 

Suppose you did, you silly boy, are you go- 
ing to lie there all day in the rain? Get up this 
instant and come to the porch.’’ 

Still crying lustily, Tom arose and, consider- 
ing the state of the weather overhead, quite de- 
liberately reached the porch, without a moment’s 
cessation of outward manifestation of his grief. 

It must be confessed that this manifestation 
of grief was out of all proportion to the amount 
of injury received, even if we include the de- 
struction of the expanse of collar, an ornament 
which was his mother’s special pride, and his 
own bane. But then Master Tom knew a thing 
or two, although he was only eight years old. 
He knew, for instance, that mamma’s heart was 
soft when her boy was in any kind of trouble. 
He knew — well, as much as most boys of eight. 

He remembered — boys remember these things 
easily — how often she had brushed away the 
tears, and kissed and made well, or partly so, 
the cut or wounded finger, or the bruised hand or 
knee, to the utter forgetfulness of the promised 
condign punishment for the disobedience which 
had brought about the injury. Yes, Tom was, 
for his age, quite politic; and so he loudly blub- 
bered on. He did not really cry — weep — but 
merely blubbered. 


12 


TOM 


There ! there ! stop your crying. You are 
not hurt, only wet and muddy. There is nothing 
to cry about.” 

“ My clothes are all mud, mamma.” 

“ All covered with mud, you mean. That 
comes of your disobedience.” 

At which ominous remark Tom cried the 
louder, although not for contrition. He cried 
for fear of what would come upon him when 
his father should return. He felt — to use his 
own expression — he was “in for it” this time. 
He tried hard, knowing its power from past 
successes, to catch his mother’s eye with a pecul- 
iarly pleading and sorrowful expression in his 
own. It was of no use. The fates were against 
him to-day. His mother was angry. She had 
now no sympathetic or responsive glance for 
him in all his troubles. It was evidently Tom’s 
unlucky day. 

At the present moment affairs looked quite 
dark for Master Tom. Another worrying 
thought came to him, too. If it cleared up there 
was to be that baseball game in the afternoon 
on the vacant lots a block away, and perhaps — . 

This was a dreadful thought, worse than all 
the mud and all the rain. What if he should 
be kept in his room for the rest of the day, until 
his clothes were washed and dried ! That would 


I 


TOM 13 

be a catastrophe so appalling- that Master Tom 
burst out crying in earnest this time. 

That which Tom Losely dreaded happened. 
The promised whipping did not come just then. 
The maid, amid much scolding and no little 
kindly vicious pulling and pushing, took off his 
muddy shoes and divested him of considerable 
wearing apparel. He was then sent to the bath- 
room with some dry underwear and told to go 
to his bed-room to await further developments 
— and the Invincibles and the Unconquerables 
were to meet in battle royal that very afternoon ! 
Was anything so unfortunate ! The celebrated 
pitcher of the Invincibles an ignominious pris- 
oner in his own house! Poor Tom! 


CHAPTER 11. 


FRED 

F red THORNCROFT fared little better 
than Tom. It appears that his maternal 
orders had been that at the first sign of 
rain he was to leave the Losely summer-house 
and hasten home. He hastened home fast 
enough, but, as we know, he did not fulfil the 
first part of the injunction. He who hesitates 
is lost. Fred hesitated. He entered his house 
as dripping wet as Tom was, but without the 
addition of a quantity of mud on his clothes. 

He met with his punishment, too. He was 
dismissed to his room just in the same way as 
Master Tom had been exiled. 

Now it so happened that the two boys’ rooms 
were in the rear of the two houses, both on the 
second story, and exactly opposite each other. 
This brief description is necessary in order that 
the reader may follow the events of that memo- 
rable afternoon. 

Before we chronicle Fred’s share in these 
events we must go back for a little while to Tom 
and his troubles. 


14 


FRED 15 

Tom went sobbing from the bath-room to his 
exile. 

“ Mamma, Til be good, sure, if you will let 
me come downstairs,” he called over the banis- 
ters. 

“ No, sir. You must learn obedience.” 

“ But, mamma, Tm awful sorry. I am, really- 
truly.” 

“ Show it then by doing what you are told. 
Go to your room and stay there till I send for 
you.” 

Can’t I put on my Sunday clothes, and come 
down and stay with you in the parlor? I don’t 
want to go outdoors, mamma.” 

Look out, Tom. Is that quite true? What 
boy of eight, when the rain is over, on a sum- 
mer-day, actually wants to stay indoors with 
mother? Look out, Tom. 

“ No, sir,” answered his mother, you have 
been very disobedient this morning. You must 
stay in your room until your father comes home.” 

“ Oh, ma ! Pa won’t be home until after six, 
and I’ve got to pi — ” 

Tom checked himself in time. He suddenly 
thought of something. What was it? He be- 
gan to cry once more, but not so vehemently 
as before. He went to his room, threw himself 
on his bed, and wept until the pillow was wet with 
his tears. 


i6 


FRED 


The tears were as much of passion as of sor- 
row. He was angry because he had been 
naughty; and he was angry because he had re- 
ceived punishment. It was not time just yet for 
him to see the justness of the punishment, or to 
accept it in the proper spirit. 

Various thoughts passed through his mind. 
He would cry himself sick! Then his mother 
would be sorry for treating him in this way. 
He would empty his savings bank and run away 
and live among the Indians where he would never 
be locked up in his own room. He would run 
away to New York and become a newsboy and 
afterward be a millionaire, and then perhaps he 
would come home to a cruel father and mother, 
and perhaps he would forgive them. He would 
— and he suddenly plunged his hand into his 
pants’ pocket at the thought — ah ! it was not 
there! it was in his wet pants’ pocket, and, of 
course, Jane would find it, and he would lose his 
treasure. The “ it ” was a flat bicycle wrench, 
around which he had often built wonderful vis- 
ions. It often made him imagine he had a set 
of tools of an automobile outfit. In his present 
frame of mind he wished that he owned an auto- 
mobile. Wouldn’t he go speeding along the 
boulevard ! Wouldn’t there be consternation 
when the collision came ! And wouldn’t there be 
consternation, too, in the house, and wouldn’t 


FRED 


17 


the police-patrol wagon and the fire engines and 
everything come rushing up! Wouldn’t all the 
neighbors gather to the scene, and wouldn’t he 
refuse to be helped, and then wouldn’t he — 
wouldn’t a cruel mother repent of treating him 
so harshly — and then wouldn’t they beg of him 
to come out and pitch in that game — wouldn’t 
there be lots of customers for his sugar-cured 
hams — wouldn’t there be seven dollars and 
twenty-three cents — wouldn’t there be — 

And so amid a multitude of thoughts and 
waning sobs, the little head sank upon the pillow, 
and he was ere long in that beautiful paradise of 
boyhood’s dreamland. 

Tom Losely did not know how long he had 
slept. He was busy in leading bands of Indians 
to attack his own home and rescue an imprisoned 
boy; in landing the largest black bass that ever 
existed even in an angler’s dreams; in counting 
out his millionaire gold — when he was aroused 
by the maid rapping vigorously at the door of his 
room. 

He jumped off the bed, rubbing his eyes vig- 
orously. He was not yet half awake. 

“ Are the Indians come yet ? ” he asked the 
servant girl. 

Indians ! what are you talking about. Master 
Tommy? Here’s your dinner. Your mother 
says if you are very good and quiet and don’t 


FRED 


l8 

cry any more, she’ll think about letting you out 
by five o’clock, and your coat and pants is just 
that spoiled that you’ll never be able to wear 
’em again, an’ that’s my firm conviction.” 

Her firm conviction did not interest Tom in 
the least, but the tray she placed on the table 
did. 

“What’s that?” asked Tom in surprised dis- 
gust. 

“ That’s your dinner. Master Tom.” 

“My dinner, that!” said poor Tom. It was 
a sad disappointment. Just a cut of beef, with 
plenty of potatoes, and some slices of bread. 
There was never a bit of pie, no cookies, not even 
an apple. Tom thought himself in hard lines 
indeed. He began to realize that sometimes the 
way of the transgressor is hard. 

“ Is that all ? ” he asked plaintively. 

“ Yes, your mother said you could draw your 
drinking-water from the tap in your own room. 

Tommy went to the window and looked out. 
His lips were twitching with mortification. He 
did not want to let the servant girl see him cry 
over what he considered poor fare, yet he was 
very near doing so. 

After a moment or two he put his hands into 
his pockets, turned his back to the window, and 
said mysteriously : 

“ You’ll be sorry when they come, that’s all.” 


FRED 


19 


Now, Master Tom, don’t you go to be silly. 
You can’t scare me about your Indians. There 
ain’t none any more — leastways in these parts 
— so there ! ” 

Oh ! all right. All you people downstairs 
will be sorry when midnight comes, and the wind 
howls, and the windows rattle, and Ches-nacha, 
the Little Chief, comes stealing up the garden 
path to the attack. We know the signals. He 
will shout to me : ‘ Ne-heich. Chiwini chock- 

awaya ’ — come here, give me something to eat. 
Then I’ll answer the signal ; I’ll say, * Onohi, 
neatho monathah esnanagh ’ — young man, white 
man heap hungry. Then I’ll go away with him 
and become a menibe nenoway, a Northern Ara- 
paho, and then you’ll all be sorry. It’ll be too 
late then to bring me any cookies or any apples.” 

Tom’s knowledge of a few Indian words, 
which he had picked up somewhere, sounded ter- 
rible to the untutored mind of the maid. But 
she understood the last sentence and its implied 
wish for some sweet cakes and fruit. 

She liked Master Tom. Many a quarter of 
pie had found its way, in days gone by, to his 
room through her instrumentality. 

Now, Master Tom, stop talking them wicked 
words and making them there threats. You 
make me feel all creepy, indeed you do. If you’ll 
be very good. I’ll slip up here after the missus 


20 


FRED 


and the other children have had dinner, and I 
don’t know what will be in my pockets. It won’t 
be needles nor thimbles nor thread.” 

With this Tom was fain to be content. He 
sat down to his meagre, but certainly substantial, 
meal with hope of what the future would bring 
him by way of dessert. 

While taking his dinner, Tom faced the win- 
dow. He had barely finished his beef and bread 
and potatoes, which he had eaten quickly and 
heartily, aided by a healthy appetite, when, 
chancing to look through the window, he saw 
another boy’s head at another window across the 
two gardens. He became interested at once. 
Who was it? He thought at first that it was 
the head of his friend and chum, Fred Thorn- 
croft. But no, Fred could not be in durance 
vile. Fred had not fallen down and made him- 
self one big mud-spot. Then, Fred had no big 
collar to spoil and jeopardize his peace of mind. 
Fred’s mother, he thought,- was more sensible 
than his own. She didn’t make Fred wear this 
great yoke. He was allowed to wear a neat 
Stand-Up collar. It couldn’t be Fred in that 
room, yet ‘‘ birds of a feather flock together.” 
There was a boy in that room. That fact, under 
the circumstances, interested Tommy as nothing 
else would have done, 


FRED 


21 


Hastily finishing- the remainder of his dinner, 
he threw open the window. 

Hi hi-i-i-lo,” he shouted, “ Hi hi-i-i-lo.” 
This failed to attract the attention of the boy 
opposite. Then Tom leaned far out of the win- 
dow and whistled the universal boys’ call, which 
is nearest represented in words by We-wau-wee, 
or Milwaukee, the middle sound being about a 
third of an octave lower than the other two. 
What English-speaking boy throughout the world 
does not know that signal? 

As soon as Fred Thorncroft heard the uni- 
versal call, his head, too, was out of the window. 
The two imprisoned boys were too far apart to 
hold a conversation without shouting loud enough 
to attract the attention of their respective mam- 
mas, or their domestics. There were two rather 
long city gardens and an alley between them. 

If the gentle lady who is at this moment 
reading this story to her sons gathered around 
her knees imagines that distance was an insur- 
mountable barrier to communication between 
Tom and Fred, let her ask her Harold or Horace, 
or Terrence or Aloysius, or any other of her own 
about it. They, being real boys, could of course 
give her plenty of information such as would 
surprise her by reason of its ingeniousness. 

As soon as Tommy and Fred had established 
the identity of each other, they at once, as by 


22 


FRED 


a species of intuition, set about devising means 
and methods of intercommunication. It did not 
take them many minutes to establish a code of 
signals which would have been the admiration 
of the navy, or of the bravest Indian chief of the 
plains. 


CHAPTER III. 


THE SIGNALS 

B y means of the signals Tom told Fred 
of his unfortunate fall into the pool of 
muddy water. In pantomimic gestures 
he described accurately the event and the con- 
sequences. In answer to a gesture-question, 
Fred Thorncroft informed his friend that he had 
escaped a fall, but not a wetting, and barely a 
whipping. He was now detained in his own 
room for his disobedience. Tom inquired of 
Fred, by means of some really very clever ges- 
tures, what was to be the fate of the Invincibles- 
Unconquerables ball game, which had been set 
for that afternoon. Fred was in a quandary. 
He shrugged his shoulders and threw open the 
palms of his hands in sign of surrender and 
defeat. 

Presently Tom, to Fred’s surprise, quite sud- 
denly disappeared from the window. He had 
heard a rap at the door. Not wishing to be 
caught holding communication with any confed- 
erate outside, he had jumped away from the win- 
dow, and stood at the table when the girl entered. 

23 


24 


THE SIGNALS 


My goodness, Tommy! did you eat all them 
potatoes, and bread, and meat? You must ^a’ 
been awful hungry.” 

Tom certainly was before he sat down to his 
plain, but plentiful, meal. 

“ A feller must eat something, Jane,” he said 
evasively. 

‘‘ But there was enough for a full-grown man.” 

“ I guess I can eat as much as any full-grown 
man that I know,” said Tom. 

Which was perfectly true, and Jane ought to 
have known it. She did know it from past ex- 
perience, but just now she seemed to have for- 
gotten. 

I suppose, then, a couple of puff-tarts and 
a couple of red apples and a banana ain’t no use 
now? ” she said. 

Master Tommy Losely began to be frightened; 
was he going to lose his dessert after all? With 
ready wit he put his hand to his stomach and 
tried — not very successfully, but earnestly — to 
assume a sickly expression. 

‘‘ I think,” he said, “ I think, Jane, I believe 
I am a little sick at the stomach. Two cream 
puffs I know would settle it. Don’t you think 
those nice large cream puffs which you make 
so well would do me good? You know I caught 
an awful ducking this morning. I may take 
cold yet.” 


THE SIGNALS 


25 


Jane laughed heartily at the boy’s diplomacy. 
She was very good-natured. Tom was a great 
favorite of hers. She often mitigated the rigors 
of justice in his regard. She, being minister 
plenipotentiary of the department of cuisine, was 
an important personage in the household. Tom 
knew his powers. He had often cultivated her, 
to his own profit. The absolute mistress of the 
pantry is a somebody of great importance in any 
boy’s eyes. 

She liked his bonny, bright face and, if the 
truth were told, she would by far rather see him 
in all sorts of pranks and scrapes than behold 
him a “ ninny and a sissy milksop.” 

Well, Tommy, is you sick now, or is you 
goin’ to be sick? Which?” 

“ Why? ” asked Tom, not knowing which was 
the safer ground to take. 

‘‘ ’Cause,” said the maid, if you is now, I 
think p’raps the cream tarts will cure you right 
off, and if you is going to be sick, the red apples 
and the banana, maybe, will prevent it.” 

She drew out of her ample pocket a paper bag, 
opened it, and temptingly displayed two delicious 
cream puffs lightly resting on the heavier fruit. 

‘‘Oh! oh! Jane, you’re a — you’re a duck!” 
and Tom was ready to throw his arms around 
her neck and reward her for her kindness by a 
good sounding smack of a kiss. 


26 


THE SIGNALS 


There! there! now be a good boy. If you 
are real quiet, I’ll ask your mother to let you 
down at three o’clock instead of waiting till your 
father comes home.” 

“ You’re real good, Jane. I wish you was my 
mother, that I do,” said the boy, while with one 
arm he tried to embrace her, the other hand be- 
ing engaged in holding the remains of tart num- 
ber one. 

“ Lawd’s sakes ! just hear the boy,” said the 
good-natured domestic, laughing aloud. Now 
you just try to be good, and I’ll do what I can 
for you.” 

It was a proud boy that at once spread out two 
apples, a banana, and one cream puff on the win- 
dow-sill in full view of the longing but too dis- 
tant Fred Thorncroft. Tommy pretended to 
throw one of the apples across the lots to Fred. 
This both knew would be a foolish thing to try. 
The apple would probably fall in the alley mid- 
way between the two houses. 

Suddenly Tom thought of a device by which 
he could talk to his companion. Securing a 
large piece of packing-paper, he twisted it up 
trumpet-fashion, and made a temporary but very 
successful megaphone. He tested it at once. 

Get some paper, Fred, and make a trumpet 
like mine.” 

Thorncroft’s head immediately ducked down 


THE SIGNALS 


27 


from the window. In a few minutes he reap- 
peared with a trumpet, a duplicate of Tom's. 
Both were very successful, the boys requiring but 
little effort to hear each other without raising 
their voices enough to disturb those in the rooms 
below. 

‘‘ Where'd ye get the goodies?" was Fred's 
first question. 

** Jane. She’s fine. Played a little sick.” 

‘‘ Can’t ye throw me an apple ? ” 

Couldn't reach you if I tried, and I might 
smash a window.” 

Pshaw ! guess that’s true. I’m awful hun- 
gry for fruit.” 

Didn’t you get any dinner? ” 

“ Sure ; I got some, but no pie, nor nothing.” 

“ That’s me too. If it hadn’t been for Jane, 
I wouldn’t have had any dessert to-day, sure.” 

Say, Tom, how about that ball game? ” 

“ I dunno.” 

The Unconquerables will say we were afraid 
of them.” 

“ Not much.” 

They will though. What yer goin’ to do 
'bout it ? ” 

Dunno.” 

Say, Tom ! ” 

Well ? ” 


28 


THE SIGNALS 


Suppose you — we — get out of the win- 
dows? ” 

“ And break my neck — not much.’’ 

“ Stupid ! don’t you see your coal-shed comes 
up quite close to your window. It’s the easiest 
thing in the world to drop to that. Then you’ve 
only got a few feet to jump.” 

Tom Losely looked out and saw the plan was 
quite feasible. 

“ Supposin’ I do. We can’t play unless you 
are there to catchy can we?” 

‘‘ Guess not.” 

‘‘Well, then?” 

Fred looked out of his window. There was 
no coal-shed near his house. 

“ Fred! ” megaphoned Tom. 

“ Well, what d’ye want? ” answered Fred. 

“ See that big water-pipe near your window ? 
You dassen’t climb down that.” 

Fred had never thought of doing such a thing. 

“ My goodness ! Tom Losely, do you take me 
for a cat? Course I can’t climb down that.” 

“ I could if I was there.” 

“ No, you couldn’t.” 

“ Yes, I could. It’s dead easy.” 

“ How?” 

Tom showed in pantomime how it could be 
done, or at least how he thought it could be done. 

“ You dassen’t try,” said Tom. 


THE SIGNALS 


29 


‘‘ I dare, if you’ll jump off the wood-shed.” 

I ain’t going to take a dare from you.” 

Well, I ain’t going to take a dare from you, 
neither,” said Fred. 

All right. When shall we do it ? ” 

Right now.” 

“ Say, Fred, it’s too early yet for the game. 
It’s only half past one, and the game don’t start 
till three.” 

All right ; we will wait till a quarter to 
three.” 

The interval passed slowly for both. After 
accepting each other’s dare,” conversation 
lagged. The Invincibles baseball paraphernalia 
was kept in Master Fred Thorncroft’s wood-shed, 
which abutted the alley. So if the two succeeded 
in making their descent the game could be saved. 

About five minutes to three two small boys 
might have been seen running rapidly along the 
alley toward the vacant lots not far away. 
Thorncroft was a little dazed and shaken. He 
had let go his hold when about half-way down 
the stand-pipe. He was considerably jarred by 
his fall, but small boys’ bones are soft and not 
easily broken. 

Tommy Losely was more successful. At least 
he reached the ground unhurt. His danger lay 
in being detected. He had to make a side jump 
from his window to the roof of the wood-shed. 


30 


THE SIGNALS 


This could not be done without considerable 
noise. Suppose Jane or his mother happened to 
be in the shed or in the summer-kitchen at that 
moment ! 

The fact was, Jane was actually in the shed 
at the time. The noise frightened her for a 
moment. She quickly recovered, and assured 
herself the young rascal was unhurt. As she 
heard him scamper along the shingles and down, 
she did not think it worth while to raise a hue 
and cry. She knew the latter would come soon 
enough, unless Master Tommy were more suc- 
cessful in escaping punishment than he usually 
was. 


CHAPTER IV. 


THAT GAME 

O WING to the untoward events of the 
morning, Master Thomas Losely, pitch- 
er of the Invincibles, appeared on the 
town lots diamond to meet the redoubtable Un- 
conquerables of the neighboring parish school, 
clad in a very primitive manner. He wore 
merely an undershirt, a pair of old knee-pants, 
black stockings, and — slippers. It is true that 
they were fine dancing slippers, but scarcely suit- 
able for the more strenuous occupation of base- 
balling. More especially were they unsuited for 
Tom’s special and famous play of sliding to 
bases, which, being a good imitator, he had 
copied from older players. Fortunately he had 
found his red baseball cap in his room, so he 
was happy. 

Happy? Well, not exactly, that afternoon. 
By a strange coincidence, Fred and he, that is, 
catcher and pitcher of the Invincibles, seemed to 
dislike looking into each other’s eyes that day. 
Each knew he had done wrong. Each knew, 
also, the risk he ran; and each knew unmistak- 

31 


32 


THAT GAME 


ably that there had to be a reckoning on his re- 
turn. Both knew their re-entrance must be as 
public as their exit had been surreptitious, and 
both realized there was trouble in the future. 
Yet all this did not prevent either from playing 
good ball; it rather added zest to their efforts. 
Never did Tom do such good pitching; never 
was Fred so sure in his catching. 

The game started a little before four o’clock. 
By the time it was well under way there was 
quite a respectable crowd of people present to 
witness it. Street-car motormen slowed up as 
they passed the vacant lots. Delivery wagons 
lined the street. Tom felt himself a hero as he 
was cheered time and again upon retiring one 
after another of his opponents. 

It so happened that Dr. Losely came home 
from his downtown office a little earlier than 
usual that afternoon. About five o’clock, seeing 
so large a crowd on the vacant lots near his 
home, he stepped off the car to see what the ex- 
citement was. He was not very much surprised 
to learn that it was a baseball match between the 
teams of two parish schools, but he was sur- 
prised, at a change of innings, when the Un- 
conquerables went to the bat, to see his own boy 
take the pitcher’s plate in such a remarkable cos- 
tume. 

What on earth has got into his mother’s head 


THAT GAME 33 

to let him come out of the house in those out- 
landish clothes ? ” thought he. 

He did not disturb the boy, however, in the 
midst of his triumph. He was pleased that any 
of his children should show excellence of any 
kind. He argued that from excellence in sport 
would come excellence later in study, and, later 
still, excellence in a professional or business 
career. 

Then, he was a bit of a baseball enthusiast 
himself, and, consequently, quite willing that his 
boy should take as much enjoyment out of it as 
he himself did. 

The game was a close one. In the eighth 
inning the two teams — true to their names — 
were a tie. In the ninth inning the Invincibles 
made one run by a good three-bagger by Master 
Tom, letting home a man on third base. Tom, 
although he reached third, did not get home. 

When the Unconquerables went to bat, Tom 
Losely’s curves fanned out three men in short 
order. Did you ever hear such shouting! His 
father shouted as loud as anybody. They carried 
the boy off the field on their shoulders. What 
though his dancing slippers were irretrievably 
ruined ! What were slippers at such a time I 
What did broken pants matter on an occasion 
like this ! Baseball heroes can not bother them- 
selves with such small matters, 


34 


THAT GAME 


“ Come, Tommy, you have had glory enough 
for one day,” said his father; “let us go home 
and get some supper. Where did you get such 
an arm, Tom ? ” 

At the mention of home and supper all Tom’s 
glory faded. He had risked much for this game. 
He felt very uncomfortable now for the near 
future. There was at the present moment a 
much more genuine sickly look on his face than 
there had been in the cream puff incident. 

“ What’s the matter, Tom? ” asked his father, 
seeing the change come over his face. “ Has the 
game been too much for you ? Come home, and 
I’ll get mother to make some lemonade. I am 
as dry as a fish — don’t think I’ve shouted so 
much in years.” 

“Id — don’t want to go home — just now, 
pa,” said Tom. 

“ Why, lad, what’s the matter with you ? 
Don’t you think your mother will be pleased with 
you ? ” 

If the doctor could have read his son’s 
thoughts at that moment he would have learned 
unmistakably that Tom thought she would not. 
We have said that Master Thomas Losely was 
politic. He did not answer his father’s question. 

“You go home, papa, first; I’ll come in in a 
little while.” 

“What’s wrong, Tom? Why! you’re lame. 


THAT GAME 


35 


How came you to think of playing in slippers? 
They are spoiled, too. You should always wear 
a pair of good stout shoes when playing base- 
ball.” 

Dr. Losely still held his boy’s hand. Seeing 
him holding back — for what reason he could 
not imagine — he relinquished his hand. 

“ You go home first, papa, please. Then I’ll 
come in.” 

Just at that moment Fred Thorncroft came up 
and looked into Tom’s face. The look was so 
quizzically peculiar that it struck Dr. Losely as 
very strange. He remembered it for many a day 
after. Tom understood it well enough. 

All right,” said the father, “ if the baseball 
hero of the day refuses me the honor of coming 
home with me, I suppose I must go alone,” and 
he laughingly walked in the direction of his 
home. 

Gee whiz ! ” said Fred, you are in for it, 
Tom, when he finds out. Won’t he be mad! ” 

Guess you ain’t any better off,” answered 
Tom. 

“ Guess I ain’t.” 

How are you going to get home?” 

I dunno.” 

“ You can’t climb up that water-pipe.” 

I’m not going to try. Coming down is bad 
enough. I’m going to face the music.” 


36 


THAT GAME 


Guess ril have to, too,” said Tom, most 
lugubriously. Suddenly he brightened. 

“ There’s Jane. She’ll help me out, you bet.” 

Tom placed, from previous experience, almost 
unlimited confidence in the powers of Jane. But 
then, all former escapades were trivial compared 
to this one, and he very seriously doubted Jane’s 
influence in the present case. 

Tom Losely lingered on the field of glory for 
full half an hour. The flattery he received would 
have completely turned his head at any other 
time. Just now it was overshadowed and poi- 
soned by the certainty of coming evil. 

Like many an older Tom, he had taken all 
risks for present pleasure, without, at the time, 
counting the cost. Now his time of reckoning 
had come, as it came or will come to older Toms 
as well. What would he not give now to be 
safe back in his own little room. But that was 
impossible. He could not recall the past. He 
must now take the consequences of his deeds. 

Master Tom Losely had the strangest ex- 
perience of his life that night, and one which he 
will never forget. 


CHAPTER V. 


THE HOME-COMING 

T he baseball hero sauntered home with lag- 
gard step. He was lame. He had to 
walk gingerly in consequence. One slip- 
per was so badly torn that without careful step- 
ping it would not stay on his foot. 

Why was Tom so careful about the click of 
the garden gate in the rear of the house? He 
was not always so considerate. Coming up the 
garden path he kept as much as possible out of 
sight of the sitting-room window. Why? He 
dodged from one oleander to another and at last 
reached the door of the summer-kitchen. 

Standing on one side, he called softly: 

“ Jane ! Jane ! ” 

The domestic was there, brewing the tea. 
‘‘Oh! Master Tom, how could you? Your 
mother has been worryin’ all the afternoon about 
you. I thought perhaps you had fallen into the 
water-barrel.” 

“ I wish I had now,” said the boy, ruefully. 
“Oh! Tommy, you wicked boy! How dare 
you say such naughty things ? ” 

37 


38 


THE HOME-COMING 


Wish I had,” repeated Tom. 

If you say that again, I’ll go and call your 
mother straight away.” 

“ Is she very angry, Jane? ” 

“ I guess she’s considerable riled. You won’t 
get off easy, that’s sure.” 

Tom did not expect to be let off lightly. He 
had begun to realize the gravity of his offence. 
There was a certain amount of manliness in his 
composition. What boy who plays ball well has 
not this quality? During the last few minutes 
he had made up his mind to take whatever pun- 
ishment was in store for him, without excuse 
and without whimpering. 

It was lucky for the youngster that he had 
adopted this course of action, for, when his 
father learned of his disobedience, he was at a 
loss what punishment to inflict, and determined 
to be guided to a large extent by the manner 
his son conducted himself when he came home. 

Is supper ready, Jane? ” asked Tom. 

‘^Just. It’s six o’clock, and master’s hungry. 
It will be ready in one minute.” 

I’m so glad. I’m awful hungry.” 

Why, bless the boy, with that dinner you 
ate, and them cream puffs and fruit too ! ” 

“ I have been playing ball all the afternoon,” 
said Tom, with a superiority of manner which 
the simple girl could not fathom. 


the HOME-COMING 39 

Shall I tell your mamma you have come 
home? ’’ 

“ I suppose you must.” 

The girl left the summer-kitchen with the tea- 
pot, and went into the house. Tom spent an 
extremely unpleasant two minutes. 

Come to supper, Tommy,” the boy heard his 
mother call a moment later. Was Tom ever 
more surprised in his life? He had expected — 
what had he not expected? And here was the 
usual invitation to supper as if nothing had gone 
amiss. Oh ! perhaps papa had begged him off 
in view of the fine pitching. Whatever may 
have been the cause, he took heart of grace and 
walked boldly into the dining-room. 

Herein Tom made a mistake. He should have 
answered back from the kitchen that he would 
be there in a minute — that he was washing his 
hands and face. In the meantime he should 
have coaxed his favorite, Jane, to run up the 
back stairs and bring him a decent coat to put 
on. But poor Tom forgot all the amenities. 
He walked in boldly. 

When his mother saw him she gave a gasp 
and stared. 

‘‘Did you go out dressed like that?” she 
asked. 

“ Run upstairs, Tom, and put on some re- 
spectable clothes,” said his father. 


40 


THE home-coming 


With a grateful look at his father, he made 
for the stairs. In a minute or two he came 
down. There was evidence of at least an at- 
tempt at washing his hands and face and of 
combing his tousled hair. He had slipped on a 
neat red and black sweater, and over that he wore 
a coat. 

Not knowing at what moment the storm would 
break, wise Tom determined to make hay while 
the sun shone. He did not wait to be told a 
second time to begin. Everybody knows the 
capacity of the appetite of a hungry boy who 
has been playing ball two or three hours; and 
it should be understood that tea at the Losely’s 
was but a frugal meal, the edibles being of the 
lighter kind, and therefore much more would be 
required to satisfy hunger. 

The greatest puzzle to Tom, during that meal, 
was the perfect silence on part of both father 
and mother with respect to his transgression. 
To Tom the silence was ominous. He would 
rather have had it over and done with, even to 
an interview with his father in the wood-shed. 

Wasn’t it strange? — half an hour or so be- 
fore his father was all enthusiasm with regard 
to his skill. Now he spoke no word of base- 
ball. He certainly by this time must have heard 
of Tom’s getting out of the window — yet never 


THE HOME-COMING 


41 


a word about it. It was all very mysterious. 
Had they both forgotten and forgiven it? Tom 
hoped against hope that it might be so, yet he 
did not dare open his mouth at table — that 
is, for purposes of conversation. Otherwise it 
was opened to good purpose. He was more puz- 
zled than ever when, the meal being finished, he 
heard his father say to his mother : 

“ In about an hour, mamma.” 

His mother answered : 

“ Very well, dear.” 

When Tom left the table he suddenly became 
extraordinarily anxious about some school les- 
sons which he had missed during the school year. 
I wonder if any boy could give the reason why 
Tom Losely, right in the middle of vacation, 
should go to his room and to his books, and that 
without the slightest coercion. In about an hour 
Tom heard his father call upstairs: 

Tom, are you busy? ” 

No, father, Tm learning some lessons.’’ 

Tom was not quite sure, but he thought he 
heard his father give a short, sudden chuckle of 
amused but suppressed laughter. What do peo- 
ple want to laugh at a studious and industrious 
boy for? 

Come down to the front porch, will you?” 

Yes, father.” 

The boy came down in fear and trembling. 


42 


THE HOME-COMING 


He found his father sitting in an easy rocker. 
His mother was absent. 

“ Come here, my boy.” 

Tom approached nearer to his father, who took 
hold of him and drew him close to his knee by 
the side of the chair. 

“ Tommy, son, what did you do this after- 
noon? ” 

Wrong, sir,” whispered the brave little boy, 
without a moment’s hesitation. 

“What did you do? Tell me all,” said the 
father, who kindly stroked the boy’s head. 

“I — I runned away — ” 

“ Yes.” 

“ I jumped — I mean I got out of the window 
and ran away to play ball.” 

“ Was not that very wrong, Tom? ” 

“ Yes, sir; very wicked.” 

Brave Tom Losely! Perhaps he might not 
have been so brave if he had not so kind and 
so judicious a father to manage him. How 
many a boy has been ruined in the administra- 
tion of punishment. 

“What are you going to do about it, son?” 
asked his father, who wanted the boy to take the 
initiative in reparation of the fault. 

“ Go and beg mamma’s pardon, sir.” 

“ And what next ? ” 

“ Yours.” 


THE HOME-COMING 


43 


“ And what after that ? ” 

“ Ask God to forgive me, and our holy Mother 
to pray for me.” 

“ Good. Don’t you expect some punishment 
from me and your mother, Tom?” 

“ Sure, pa.” 

“ What do you think it will be, my boy? ” 

“ A whipping, sir,” answered Tom, in the 
faintest of whispers, yet bravely. 

“ Do you expect that ? ” 

Yes, sir.” 

Do you think you deserve that ? ” 

Yessur,” came the answer in the very faintest 
whisper. 

“ Well, I will think it over. Go, now, and 
talk to your mother. She’s waiting for you in 
the parlor.” 

Tom’s father was satisfied with the manly at- 
titude of the boy. There is no denying that if 
Tom had done any sniveling or made any ex- 
cuses that night matters would have gone ex- 
tremely hard with him. 

His mother was sitting in an easy chair in the 
dark, awaiting Tom’s appearance. She had 
heard every word spoken on the veranda. 

Is that my boy ? ” she asked. 

“ It’s me, ma.” 

Come here, Tommy.” 

Master Thomas came close up to his mother’s 


44 


THE HOME-COMING 


knee. Instead of standing there, he knelt down 
and burying his head in her lap gave way to a 
flood of quiet tears. She let him cry without in- 
terrupting him. When the sobs had somewhat 
quieted down, she asked him : 

“Tommy, why do you cry?” 

“ Because, mamma, Fve been naughty.” 

“ In getting so wet? ” 

“ No, mamma, I didn’t think much then. I 
didn’t mean to be naughty then. But this after- 
noon when I got out of the window.” 

“Did you, or Fred, suggest it?” 

“ He did, mamma, but I did it, though.” 

“ That’s right, my son. Never try to hide a 
fault. Always manfully acknowledge it. There 
is nothing so mean or small as half-truthful ex- 
cuses. Are you sorry for your fault now ? ” 

“ Yes, ma’am, I’m very sorry.” 

“ And you won’t be disobedient again ? ” 

“No, ma’am.” 

“You promise me this. Tommy?” 

“ Yes, mamma.” 

“ Then I know my boy will keep his promise.” 

“ Sure.” 

“ You will have to do some penance for this, 
Tom. Are you willing? ” 

“ I am, ma ; but I hope it won’t be too hard.” 

He expected a good whipping, but there are 
some penances much harder for boys than that. 


THE HOME-COMING 


45 


Master Tom showed his best side to his mother 
and father that night, but he had not ceased to 
be a real, live, American boy for all that. 

“ What if I forbid you to play ball for a 
week ? ” 

“ Oh, ma ! There was real agony in his 
tone. Then the manly little fellow remembered 
himself instantly. Yet the tears were in his eyes 
when he said : 

“All right, ma; I won’t. Kiss me, mamma.” 

And a mother’s kiss, the most sacred thing on 
earth, sealed the compact, giving strength to the 
boy’s resolutions and peace to his troubled little 
breast. 

Thank God there are thousands of such homes 
as the Loselys’. From such spring the great men 
of the world. 


CHAPTER VI. 


NEXT DAY 

A WHOLE week of it in the middle of the 
summer vacation and no baseball! Just 
think of it, you boys. How would you 
like such a punishment? How many of the 
readers of this story of “ Tom Losely : Boy ’’ 
would keep a promise like Tom’s? 

It is true that Master Tom had been disobe- 
dient twice in one day, but it is also true that he 
was sorry at night. It is true that he had done 
wrong, but is it not also true that he accepted 
the punishment in the evening in the manliest 
and very best disposition? 

Did he perform faithfully the penance his 
mother had imposed upon him? We shall see. 
When he went to bed that night he felt so good, 
and at the same time so bad, that he did not 
know what to make of it. 

He felt so sorry for his fault that he wished 
his father had whipped him “ good and hard,” 
and he felt such peace and ease of mind over 

his confession and the gentle ways of father and 

^6 


NEXT DAY 47 

mother that he determined never, never, never to 
be naughty again. 

Surely, to bring about such results with the 
least amount of irritation, and without arousing 
any other passion, of fear, or dread, or dislike for 
parents, or a sense of injustice, was the very 
acme of perfection in domestic and family gov- 
ernment. 

It must not be supposed that Tom ceased for 
a moment to be Tom, or became a “ goody- 
goody.” Far from it. The next day he was as 
full of mischief and as fun-loving as ever; as 
big a tease of his mother as heretofore, and the 
bane as well as the joy of Jane. 

This kindly domestic had taken care to have 
his clothes nicely cleaned by the next morning, 
and his shoes brightly polished. Tom appeared 
at breakfast the next morning with another 
broad-collared and frilled blouse, as bright and 
as fresh as though he had never in all his life 
been caught in a shower or fallen in the mud. 

Perhaps some readers want to know what 
Master Thomas Losely looked like. Well, he 
was just such a boy in appearance as you would 
like your younger brother to be — and that is 
saying a great deal, isn’t it? 

Tom had a fine head of curly black hair, which 
he found difficult to keep tidy, not on account 
of the hair itself, but by reason of his own rest- 


48 


NEXT DAY 


less movements. When untidy it did not even 
look bad. Some boys are that way. There is 
something about them so pleasing that even un- 
tidiness does not exactly displease. Then, Tom 
was a boy. That means that his normal condi- 
tion was one of more or less untidiness. I know 
what you say is true — yes — boys that are boys 
can not always be fit to receive company in the 
parlor. Jane knew that, too. It may safely be 
said that Master Tom, except very early in the 
morning — would not pass Jane’s inspection. 
But you . know, don’t you boys, that was not 
Tom’s fault — was it? Boys are not supposed 
to live for company receiving altogether. 

Thomas Losely had a broad square forehead, 
and strong black eyebrows, which overhung a 
pair of mischievous, laughing, loveable steel-gray 
eyes, which snapped and sparkled in fun, or were 
quick to soften in response to a mother’s love or 
a father’s kindness. They were the best feature 
of Tom’s face. His nose was just a wee bit 
short and inclined slightly to tip-tilt. The lips 
were well formed and as red as cherries. When 
the boy laughed he showed a set of perfect, white 
teeth, very pleasing to see. They were not yet 
affected by overindulgence in candies and sweet 
stuffs. The whole face was round and chubby 
and very attractive, indicating a character of 
magnificent possibilities. 


NEXT DAY 


49 


We know what kind of arm he possessed. A 
boy that could pitch a whole game and fan out 
three in one-two-three order in the ninth inning 
was all right,” wasn’t he, boys ? 

His little legs were just as sturdy. They were 
short, and therefore he was not so good a runner 
on bases as his friend Fred Thorncroft, who was 
taller and not so stout. 

There! You have a picture of Tommy 
Losely, and surely a more delightful little fellow 
never got into scrapes, or mud-puddles, or had 
the nose bleed, or wore a black eye. 

Tom’s friend Fred was of a different type. 
They were inseparable companions at the Sisters’ 
school — the two occupying a double desk. The 
greatest threatened punishment for these two was 
a promise from the Sister that if they would not 
keep quiet and learn their lessons she would sepa- 
rate them. One day she did separate them for 
a whole morning, and that day life was for both 
a hollow sham. Tom actually cried one day this 
summer when Fred told him that he was going 
away to another academy school the next Sep- 
tember. 

Fred Thorncroft was several inches taller than 
his almost inseparable companion. His hair was 
a rich warm brown color, although of not nearly 
so luxuriant a growth as Tom’s big black crop. 
He was much paler than Tom, not having the 


50 


NEXT DAY 


way of getting sun-burned as easily as his com- 
panion. His face was rather long, with regular 
features and eyes inclined to be blue. His eye- 
brows were somewhat lighter in color than his 
hair. His chin was inclined to be pointed. He 
was a distinguished, almost aristocratic-looking 
boy — but a real boy for all that. He rather 
represented the Teutonic type, while his friend 
Tom was a child of the sun — of the Latin race. 
Yet they were both American, and if you had 
ever been brave enough to pass a Fourth of July 
in their company, you would never after have 
doubted their loyalty to the flag or their sound 
citizenship. 

At breakfast the morning after Tom’s 
naughtiness,” Dr. Losely asked his son : 

‘‘ What penance did your mother give you last 
night, son?” 

“ I mustn’t play for a week, papa.” 

The father looked across the table at his wife 
in astonishment. He considered that an almost 
impossible punishment for a young boy, and very 
excessive. Mrs. Losely did not speak. She let 
Tom explain himself. 

“ That’s a big punishment, eh ? ” 

‘‘Yes, sir; but I was bad yesterday.” 

“ Glad to see you acknowledge your fault, my 
son. But what are you going to do for a whole 
week ? ” 


NEXT DAY 


51 


Oh ! there are lots of other games, pa.” 

” But I thought you said you must not play for 
a week ? ” 

“ Ball, pa.” 

Oh!” 

Of course “ must not play ” meant must not 
play ball with Tom. What else could it mean to 
the celebrated pitcher of the Invincibles? 

“ So you are going to keep off the diamond 
for a whole seven days ? ” 

“ I promised mamma, pa.” 

Good boy. It will be a lesson for you. It 
will do you good. Always keep your promises.” 

After breakfast, with his mother’s kiss on his 
forehead. Master Tom bounded down the stairs 
and out to the kitchen porch. Soon his father 
and mother heard his famous call-whistle which 
sounded so much like Mil-wau-kee, and they both 
smiled. 

The signal was soon responded to by Fre.d 
Thorncroft — “ We-wau-we, We-wau-we.” 

“ Come over,” beckoned Tom. 

All right,” came the answering signal, per- 
fectly understood by the two boys. Tom saun- 
tered down to the garden gate. Fred opened 
his across the alley at the same moment. Their 
greetings were somewhat peculiar this morning. 

“ Whippin’ ? ” asked Fred, 


52 


NEXT DAY 


“ Naw. Worse’n that/’ answered Tom. 

You ? ” 

“ Um-um,” answered Fred. The sound of as- 
sent was emphatic. It had a rising inflection at 
the end which put it out of the sphere of doubt 
completely. 

“ Hurt much ? ” 

“ Course not ; whippings don’t hurt, do they ? ” 

“ But I mean, much ? ” 

I should think it did. I can feel it vet,” and 
poor Fred began to rub those parts of his an- 
atomy where such punishments are usually ad- 
ministered. 

Sit down and tell me all about it.” 

Don’t care to. How did you get off? You 
couldn’t get worse’n a whippin’.” 

“ Couldn’t I ? I guess I could.” 

What was it?” 

Guess.” 

“ Can’t ; tell me.” 

“ Guess.” 

Bread and water ? ” 

Nope.” 

‘‘ No swimming at the swimming-school? ” 

Nope.” 

“ Oh ! I can’t guess. Tell me.” 

No ; guess again.” 

'' We ain’t going out to your Uncle William’s 
place next week!” guessed Fred in alarm. 


NEXT DAY 


53 


It had been arranged that the two friends were 
to spend a couple of weeks of the summer vaca- 
tion out in the country on Tom’s uncle’s farm, 

“ Nope. Papa and mamma said you and I 
and they were going out next Sunday after early 
Mass. Ma’s going to stay out and pa’s coming 
home Sunday night.” 

“ Ah ! ” said Fred, with a sigh of relief. He 
was afraid that the punishment which was 
‘‘ worse than a whipping ” might have taken that 
form. 

“ Say, Tom. You’re kind of mean this morn- 
ing. Why can’t you tell a fellow ? ” 

” Guess once more,” said Tom. 

I can’t. I give it up.” 

Tom paused tantalizingly. He knew the effect 
the forthcoming announcement would have on his 
chum. He said slowly, with a pause between 
each word : 

‘‘ No — base — ball — for — a — week ! ” 

“What!” shouted Fred, terribly excited. 
“ What ! Haven’t we arranged a return match 
for next Thursday with the Unconquerables ? 
Did you tell ’em that ? ” 

“ No.” 

“ Tom Losely, I think you are going crazy. 
We can’t put that game off.” 

“ Have to,” said Tom, sturdily, “ or play with- 
out me.” 


54 


NEXT DAY 


“ Play without you,” sneered Fred. That’s 
great talk, ain’t it? You know we can’t play 
without the crack pitcher.” 

“ Can’t help it.” 

Yes, you can.” 

“No, I can’t. You can put the game off until 
we get back from the country.” 

“ It will be too late then. It will be close to 
school time again, and our club will be broken 
up by then.” 

“ Can’t help that, Fred.” 

“ Say, Tom,” said Thorncroft, coaxingly, 
“ can’t you beg off for just that one game? ” 

“ Frederick Thorncroft,” said Master Tom, 
quite solemnly, “ I am not going to try. I done 
wrong yest’day, and I’m going to be good now.” 

Good boy, Tom. Your grammar is a little at 
fault, but your principles are all right. 


CHAPTER VII. 


THE OTHER FELLOWS 

I T WAS not the easiest thing in the world for 
Master Tom Losely to talk to his bosom 
friend in the way recorded in the last chap- 
ter. Tom felt fully the humiliation of thwarted 
plans. He was keenly alive to the mortification, 
yet, brave lad as he was, he was determined to 
undergo the full punishment. 

Telling Fred, his daily companion, was hard 
enough, but that afternoon he was to be more 
sorely tried. 

After dinner Tom began to busy himself about 
his little flower garden, in which he took a great 
deal of pride. He knew that he was going away 
at the end of the week, for fourteen days or more, 
so he wanted to trim up everything as neatly as 
possible, in order to prevent too luxurious a 
growth during his absence. He pegged down 
the verbenas, cut and pruned his petunias, and 
snipped off overblown stalks and withered leaves 
of the geraniums. He was as busy as a bee, and 
as happy as a lark. 


55 


56 


THE OTHER FELLOWS 


Keeping a flower garden is a fine occupation 
for boys. It gives them a taste for the beautiful ; 
there is an amount of healthful exercise in it, and 
it is one of those things which fill the mind with 
pleasing thoughts. What is nicer than making 
mamma’s breakfast bouquet fresh every day your- 
self, or plucking papa’s boutonniere as he starts 
off for his downtown office. When Mrs. Losely 
had company to dinner, Tom had no greater sat- 
isfaction than to be able to supply the table deco- 
rations, and no greater reward than to hear them 
praised and watch his mother’s pleased look. 

Tom Losely, come over to the lots. The 
boys want ye.” 

The voice came from a boy who was swinging 
on the back garden gate. 

Hello, Digger!” said Tom, still working 
away at his flower bed, “ what do you want? ” 

This particular boy had received the name of 
Digger from his success in unearthing worms 
when the boys of the neighborhood wanted bait 
for their fishing excursions. He had wonderful 
facility in finding worms, especially at night with 
a lantern. He v/ould take a light and walk 
across a well-kept lawn, and there find worms by 
the dozen when other boys could scarcely succeed 
in getting one. 

'' I told you,” said the boy, “ the fellows over 
on the lot want to see you ’bout something.” 


THE OTHER FELLOWS 


57 


What do they want ? I am busy and can’t 
comeT” 

“ No, you ain’t. You’re only pretending. 
That garden will keep. That won’t keep you.” 

“ Yes, it will. I’m going away soon, and I 
want to fix things up.” 

“ Oh! come on, Tom. Say, the fellows got a 
proposition to make to you. I think that was 
the word they told me to use.” 

“ A prop’sition I What’s that? ” 

“ I dunno. Something about the club.” 

“ I am not going to play next Thursday.” 

“ So Fred Thorncroft told us. But come over. 
Perhaps you could suggest to the captain some 
one to take your place.” 

That was the way the artful Digger induced 
Tom to go over to the vacant lots. When there 
Tom was soon surrounded by the enthusiastic 
baseball players who had played with him or had 
witnessed his playing the day before. 

“ Tom, the return match with the Unconquer- 
ables has been set for Thursday afternoon. 
Course you’re going to pitch?” said the captain. 
No, I am not.” 

“ Not going to pitch! Why? Isn’t this vaca- 
tion time ? Can’t we play any day we like ? ” 
Yes, you can play any day you like. I — I 
can’t — play — this week.” 

Oh ! he’s got a glass arm ! ” said Johnny 


58 


THE OTHER FELLOWS 


Smith, a boy who was jealous of him because 
the captain had not given him a coveted place on 
the nine. 

“I haven’t, neither,” said Tom; ‘'my arm’s 
good as yours and better.” 

“ Why don’t you play, then ? ” 

“ ’Cause I don’t. That’s all.” 

“ He’s afraid,” said one of the players. “ He 
won the game for us, and he is afraid to play 
another for fear of a come-down.” 

“ I’m not, either,” said Tom. 

“ Why don’t you play, then? ” 

“ That’s my business, an’ not yours,” said Tom 
rudely. 

“ Oh ! Tom Losely, don’t act this way. Play 
the game, like a good fellow. We want you,” 
said the captain, a good friend of Tom. 

“ Sorry,” said Tom. “ I can’t play this week 
and be a good fellow.” 

“Why not?” 

“ Because I have been forbidden to, by mam- 
ma, for disobedience,” answered Tom bravely, 
but blushing violently. 

For a moment there was a hush. Tom stood 
squirming, first on one foot and then on the other. 
You would, however, had you been there, have 
seen a fine determined look in Master Tom’s eyes 
at the moment. It was a look of moral bravery ; 
a determination which makes a hero. Fred 


THE OTHER FELLOWS 59 

Thorncroft saw it, and loved his friend all the 
more for it. 

Fred was sorry now that he had told the boys 
of Tom’s determination. He did not realize how 
hard it would be for his friend to withstand the 
pleading, and the ill-natured remarks of some, 
but he did admire the firm stand his friend had 
taken. 

Oh ! he’s tied to his mamma’s apron strings,” 
sneered one big rough boy. 

Tom blushed more deeply. 

“ No, I am not.” 

‘‘Yes, you are, else you would play the day 
after to-morrow.” 

“ I am not. Mamma told me not to play any 
more this week.” 

“ Well, isn’t that being tied to her apron 
strings ? ” 

“ I don’t see that,” remarked Fred. 

. “ No, it is not,” said Tom. “ It’s being obe- 
dient to your parents, as the catechism teaches.” 

Certainly Tom Losely was trying to expiate 
his fault of the day before. He was acting with 
the best of intentions, at all events. This, how- 
ever, did not prevent him from getting quite 
angry at the taunts. What made the situation 
more difficult was that several of the boys had 
an inkling of Tom’s escape from his room the 
previous day, in order to do what he now refused 


6o 


THE OTHER FELLOWS 


to do. They did not realize that sorrow for a 
misdeed, and repentance, and a determination not 
to do wrong again could intervene within the 
space of twenty-four hours. And all these dis- 
positions had really come to Tom. 

“Oh, you’re a sissy boy — a mammie’s kid,” 
said the big boy. 

Tom knew what he meant to imply. The boy 
wanted to insinuate that he was effeminate, girl- 
ish and silly. Now there was not a particle of 
any of these qualities in Master Tom Losely’s 
make-up. Every one acquainted with him knew 
this. Every one knew that he was a manly, 
sturdy, real boy. We who have followed these 
pages thus far can see that the accusation was 
not true in the least. 

Tom resented it. He hated to be called girl- 
ish. He also disliked to be misrepresented be- 
fore a crowd of boys. His pulse suddenly rose. 
An impulse of anger almost choked him and for 
a moment made his eyes burn and his sight be- 
come dim. Of course what he did was all 
wrong, but where is the manly man or womanly 
woman who is going to blame him overmuch for 
what took place. No boy will, and I doubt if 
any girl will. 

We know that for a boy eight years old Tom 
had a pretty strong right arm. He had strength- 
ened it well by pitching. It had good staying 


THE OTHER FELLOWS 6i 

qualities. In the gymnasium at the Sisters’ 
school he could raise himself by his arms so as 
to touch his chin to the horizontal bar. 

Tom’s anger rose from another reason, too. 
His statement ending with ‘‘ as the catechism 
teaches ” put him in, not exactly a false position, 
but at least in a peculiar one, and for this reason. 

It had leaked out among the boys — and the 
rumor had been confirmed by the peculiar cos- 
tume in which he had appeared at the game the 
day before — that he had jumped out of the win- 
dow and had run away to play that game. The 
boys did not know of his subsequent change of 
sentiment. How should they be expected to 
know? Tom saw that without their knowing 
this his talk about the precepts of the catechism 
would sound very strange coming from him. 

Notwithstanding, when one is angry, that he 
may be actuated by very good intentions, he is 
not very likely to do the most correct thing at the 
critical mom.ent. The reader will not, therefore, 
be extremely surprised at Tom Losely’s subse- 
quent actions. 

“ You are a nice kid to preach about obedience 
and what the catechism tells us,” said the big 
boy. 

“ I’ll talk about what I like,” said Tom. 

“Will you?” 

“ Yes, I will.” 


62 


THE OTHER FELLOWS 


“ No, you won’t — to me.” 

“ Yes, I will.” 

“ No, you won’t. I don’t want to hear from 
one who steals — ” 

“ You’re a liar. I never stole in my life.” 

‘‘ Yes, you did. You stole out of your bed- 
room window yesterday afternoon.” 

“You’re a — but Tom checked himself. 
He knew that he was honest as the sun with re- 
gard to taking what did not belong to him. Yet 
at the moment he was so beclouded in his mind 
that, boy-like, he could not distinguish between 
thieving and “ stealing out ” of a room when told 
to remain. With equal consistency Tom might 
have charged the big boy with theft for having 
stolen a base in the game the preceding after- 
noon. 

“ Look here, fellows ; here’s Losely preaching 
things to us, and doing things yesterday which 
any of us wouldn’t think of doing, would we? ” 

A shout of assent rose from the lips of more 
than half the crowd present. For a moment 
Tom hung his head in shame. Bitterly he now 
regretted his action of yesterday. At that mo- 
ment he would have given worlds to be able to 
deny the insinuation. Stung by the remarks of 
the coarse, big fellow, at least four years older 
than himself, he recriminated. 

“ Talk about stealing, I guess Mrs. Green, at 


THE OTHER FELLOWS 63 

the corner grocery could tell something about you 
and her watermelons if she wanted to.” 

Stupid Tom! Two wrongs do not make a 
right. You who talked about the catechism and 
its teaching knew, or ought to have known, that 
you had no right to make known the sin of oth- 
ers. 

One word led to another, and from angry 
words came something worse. 

We draw a veil over what followed, merely 
remarking that Tom’s father and mother both 
declared that if the black eye did not assume its 
normal color, or Master Tom’s upper lip assume 
its normal size by next Saturday night, they could 
not disgrace themselves by taking such a looking 
boy with them for the two weeks’ vacation on 
his uncle’s farm. 

Tom had a good deal of provocation, so we 
will not blame him — too much, yet he is not 
to be excused altogether. 


CHAPTER VIII. 


HOW IT FARED WITH TOM 

44 TOMMY! how did you come for to 

1 I do it?” said Jane the next morning 
when she saw how badly disfigured 
the boy’s face really was. “ Pm just awful 
afraid your ma won’t let you go into the country, 
that I am.” 

Tom simply groaned, not from pain, but on 
account of the dubious outlook. 

“ Your mother’s got a letter,” continued the 
girl, “ from your sister, and she says she and 
Gerald and Leonard are having the awfulest good 
time at your uncle’s. It’ll be a great pity if you 
can’t go, won’t it? ” 

Young Losely’s lip looked as if it had been 
stung by a bee. Under his right eye there was 
a tell-tale mark. He did not mind the swelling 
of the lip. He knew that would go down in 
twenty- four hours. His anxiety was about his 
right eye. 

“Can’t you do something for it, Jane? You 
know how clever you are always.” 

64 


HOW IT FARED WITH TOM 65 

The conference was taking place in the wood- 
shed. 

“Bless the boy! You think I’m a doctor as 
well as everything. You shouldn’t just go and 
get into them scrimmages with them rough boys 
— that’s all. Now you’ve got to take the con- 
sequences.” 

“ I’m sure you can do something, Jane, if you 
want to, you’re so clever — but then nobody cares 
for just a troublesome boy. I may as well be 
dead and out of the way, and then I wouldn’t be 
any more trouble to anybody.” 

Master Tommy put on the injured, innocent 
look and pose which he had so often used suc- 
cessfully with the cook. This time it was a fail- 
ure. Jane burst into a hearty laugh, her arms 
akimbo, while her hands held her rather fat sides. 

“ Oh I oh I you’re a nice-looking invalid, you 
are. You look as if you were going to pine 
away and die for sure, you do.” 

And she laughed again. As she took another 
survey of her pet she saw, instead of a boy that 
was likely to sink into a premature grave, a very 
healthy, hearty, pleasant-looking face, the very 
picture of health and boyish roguishness. True, 
the merry twinkle in one eye was somewhat im- 
peded by the swelling and the blackness. But 
the other did duty for both. With the utmost 
stretch of imagination she could not associate 


66 


HOW IT FARED WITH TOM 


Master Thomas Losely’s looks with consumption, 
or a rapid decline, or an early grave. 

Jane, as we have before remarked, was a bit 
of a tease. She liked to banter Tom^ for a while, 
and then pet him and feed him. Tom remem- 
bered how she had cried when he had the whoop- 
ing cough and she thought he was going to die. 

Well, Jane dear, I don’t exactly wish I was 
dead. Father Fowler says that’s wicked. But 
you needn’t laugh at a fellow so when he’s in 
trouble. You don’t know what it is to lose two 
weeks in the country all because of a beastly 
black eye.” 

Don’t I?” 

‘'Do you, Jane? Did you ever have a black 
eye ? ” 

“ I didn’t say I did. But I know what it is 
to be disappointed. Well, well, don’t worry 
about it. ril get a bit of raw beef from the ice- 
box and we’ll see what we can do. Fll call you 
when I am ready for you.” 

Jane was as good as her word. In half an 
hour she called Tom from his favorite summer- 
house, placed a layer of beef on the eye, and 
bound it up with a large white handkerchief. 

“ There ! you keep that on till dinner-time, and 
it will be much improved.” 

“Oh, bother!” said ungrateful Tom, “now I 


HOW IT FARED WITH TOM 67 

can’t read. I and Fred are reading ‘Claude 
Lightfoot ’ down in the grape arbor.” 

“ Well, you silly boy, can’t you get Fred 
Thorncroft to read to you ? ” 

“ Never thought of that, Jane dear. I am 
awfully obliged to you, you are always so kind. 
Don’t you think, Jane, that if Fred reads to me 
very long, some of those sweet cookies would be 
good for him — he is rather thin, you know.” 

“ You young rascal ! Get along out o’ this. 
You worry the life out of me.” 

“ Oh ! Jane — ” 

“ Get along, I say. You two youngsters are 
more trouble — ” 

“ But, Jane dear.” 

“But, Jane dear! Oh! yes. I know what 
that means. Well, clear off now, and in half an 
hour ril see what I can find for both of you. 
Mind now, you are not to come bothering here, 
ril be down the garden with what I can find.” 

With this Tom had to be content, and if the 
truth be told, he was quite content, for Jane never 
failed of her promises. Fred laughed heartily 
when he saw the big bandage round his compan- 
ion’s head. 

“ My ! but wouldn’t Big Bully be glad to see 
you now.” 

“ I wouldn’t care if he did. Say, Fred, do 
you think I did wrong to fight him yesterday? ” 


68 


HOW IT FARED WITH TOM 


Fred Thorncroft did not answer at once. He 
was trying to think it all out — trying to put 
himself in Tom’s place. What would he have 
done in the same circumstances? After quite 
mature consideration for one so young, he de- 
cided in the negative. 

I do not think, Tom, you did the right thing.” 

Why not, Fred ? ” 

“Because it’s wrong to fight, isn’t it?” 

“Yes, but—” 

“ There’s no but. He made you angry — ” 

“ I guess he did,” said Tom indignantly. 

“ Well, you made him just as mad. Didn’t 
you say a mean thing about him and that water- 
melon ? ” 

“ Wasn’t it true, though? ” asked Tom in self- 
defence. 

“ It may be true, but you should not have said 
anything about it.” 

“ Well, he struck me first.” 

“ Because you were not quick enough. 
There’s no difference between you as far as that 
goes; and it didn’t look well, Tom, to be fighting 
after you repeated those words about obedience 
to parents, from the catechism.” 

“ I guess that’s what made him so angry.” 

“ What ? ” 

“ He thought I was putting myself up as better 
than he was.” 


HOW IT FARED WITH TOM 69 

I believe the real cause was because you 
would not play in that game on Thursday.” 

Well, I am sorry for it all.” 

“ But most of all for the black eye, eh ? ” 

It isn’t as nice as candy, sure. Say, Fred, 
wonder what Father Fowler would say if he saw 
me now ! 

Hope he won’t find it out,” continued Tom; 
^Hf he does. I’m afraid — oh! here’s Jane! ” 
Tom immediately forgot all about Father 
Fowler and the terrible consequences that might 
ensue if he discovered anything. Jane was the 
all-important personage just now. 

“ How is the black eye. Tommy?” she asked. 
“ I don’t know. It feels funny.” 

What does that mean? No, you don’t! 
You keep that handkerchief on until noon; then 
I’ll put another piece of meat on your eye for the 
afternoon.” 

Oh, bother! Jane, I don’t want — ” 

“ All right, sir, if you don’t want to be cured 
you will not be able to go Sunday, that’s all.” 

“ Fred’s awful hungry, Jane; I know he is.” 

Oh ! you know a lot, you do. I expect it’s 
six for him and sixteen for yourself. I can’t 
see why it is boys is always so ter’ble hungry. 
They has never done eatin’, I do declare.” 

Notwithstanding her scolding, the kind-hearted 
creature had brought the boys quite a substan- 


70 


HOW IT FARED WITH TOM 


tial lunch, which she placed on the little rustic 
table, scolding and laughing at the same time, 

“ There ! now. If you two boys get away with 
that I guess you will be able to last till dinner- 
time at least/' 

She stood aside to witness for a moment the 
effect her kindness had upon the two boys. 
Didn’t their eyes glisten — at least one of Tom’s 
and both of Fred’s — at the dainty little lunch ! 
By way of complement to the feast she drew from 
her ample pocket two bottles of pop — that is, 
soda-water — as a very special treat. 

All of which goes to show, once more, that 
Jane was in a fair way of completely spoiling 
these two boys by kindness. Well, not alto- 
gether, as we shall see before this chronicle of 
Tom closes. Jane could “ put her foot down ” 
to some purpose when it became necessary. Once 
it did become necessary, and Tom remembered 
it for many a day after. But this was some time 
after the celebrated visit to the country. The 
story is, however, quite good enough to keep.- 
We are interested in the fortunes of Tom just 
now. 


CHAPTER IX. 


SATURDAY 

T he last day of the week was an anxious 
one for Tom. The discoloration of the 
eye was not completely gone. Twenty 
times that day he had asked his mother : 

“Will I be allowed to go, mamma?’’ 

And as many times she had answered : 

“ It is not settled yet. You must ask your 
father this evening. He will tell you whether 
he will take you or not.” 

“ Oh ! mamma, do you think he will say no ? 

“ I am sure I can not say.” 

That was all the satisfaction he could get. 
One thing gave him hope. The blackness of the 
eye had by this time turned to a dingy yellow. 
This color, bad enough in itself, was not so con- 
spicuous as the black, and so Tom had great 
hopes. 

A dozen times that afternoon he had run across 
the alley into Fred’s garden, to consult with him 
over the prospects. Both were in extreme doubt. 

They were in reality in greater danger than 
they knew of losing their vacation, for Dr. Losely 

71 


72 


SATURDAY 


himself was very uncertain whether he could get 
away from his practice even for one day. There 
appeared to be an unusual amount of sickness in 
the city. In addition to many other cases, he 
was particularly interested in one of a country 
priest who was lying ill at the Sisters’ hospital. 
In connection with this incident a very curious 
thing happened to bother Tom, and will be re- 
lated later. 

The doctor intended when he went to the 
country, to spend half a week with his brother. 
For a busy physician with a large practice this 
necessitated a great deal of arranging so that his 
patients should not suffer from lack of medical 
attention during his absence. Medicine, like the 
ministry, requires a large amount of self-denial, 
as Dr. Losely had often found to his severe cost. 
He finally successfully arranged with other physi- 
cians that all his patients should be attended to 
by them for three days. 

He did not come home on that Saturday even- 
ing until it was quite late. Tom was allowed to 
stay up much longer than usual to learn his fate. 
Fred Thorncroft had begged the same privilege. 
He was allowed to come over to Tom’s house and 
remain until the doctor came and they had 
learned whether they were to go or remain at 
home. 

The two boys were looking at a picture-book, 


SATURDAY 73 

with their heads close together, when the doctor 
at last entered the room. 

“ Oh ! papa, may I go to-morrow ? ” asked 
Tom, jumping to his feet. ‘‘ See, my eye is all 
right, isn’t it, papa ? ” 

“ I don’t know yet, child. I must consult 
mamma first.” 

The faces of the two boys were a study. Fred 
Thorncroft did not want to appear too anxious. 
Tommy was less restrained. He was of a more 
impulsive nature, and his open mouth and ques- 
tioning eyes plainly told his desires. 

It has been already remarked that Tom was 
a bit of a politician. Hearing that his mother 
had the deciding vote, as it were, on the all-ab- 
sorbing question, he sidled up to her chair, and 
laying his head on her shoulder, said : 

“ Mamma dear, you will let me go, won’t you, 
dear, because — ” 

He did not know exactly what to say. 

— “ Because, because you are going, and I 
don’t want to be away from you, do I, ma ? ” 

Mrs. Losely gave a knowing smile. 

Is that the only reason, Tom? ” she asked. 

“ No, ma, course it isn’t.” 

Do you think it the chief reason? If I were 
to decide not to go out to Uncle William’s, but 
to wait for your big brother William to come 


74 


SATURDAY 


home from the medical college, do you think you 
would care to go without me ? ” 

Tom’s father watched his face with an amused 
smile. He knew his boy was truthful, and he 
was interested to see how he would answer a 
really hard question. Tom made no reply for 
some moments. 

Well, Tommy, what do you think of my 
question ? ” at length asked his mother. 

“ I think brother William would like best to 
come out to you at Uncle William’s, mamma.” 

Dr. Losely burst out into a hearty laugh, in 
which his wife joined. 

You ought,” he said, “ to enter the diplomatic 
service, Tom. You are a regular Metternich.” 
All of which was Greek to Tom. 

“ I don’t know what that means, pa,” said the 
boy, and then with a certain wistfulness, with 
just a touch of pathos in it, he said ; 

I, and Fred too — we do so want to go.” 

“ That’s honest, at all events,” said his father. 
“ And would you be willing to go without 
me ? ” asked his mother. 

Ye-es, ma, if you say I may.” 

Thomas Losely, incipient diplomat, saw that 
it was best to be plain about the matter. 

“ But, papa,” said Mrs. Losely to her husband, 
do you think Master Tom’s eye is in such a 
condition that he may travel safely?” 


SATURDAY 


75 


Mr. Losely scarcely refrained from bursting 
out again into laughter. To imagine danger, 
and to Tom of all boys in the world, just because 
he had a black eye ! 

Mrs. Losely continued: 

“ And do you not think, papa, if we took a boy 
with us who has such a disgraceful black eye, we 
should be disgraced?’' 

’Tain’t black no more,” said Tom, in his 
eagerness forgetting what grammar he knew. 
“ See, it’s yellow now.” 

“ You must thank Jane for that,” said his 
mother. It was getting very late, and in spite 
of Tom’s anxiety to know the decision of his 
parents he had difficulty in keeping his eyes open. 
It was a case of tired eyelids upon tired eyes.” 
Small boys are children of the sun. They can 
not live long awake in the darkness or in arti- 
ficial light. 

“ Go back to your picture-book,” said the doc- 
tor. Your mother and I will consult over the 
matter.” 

Tom was on the point of blurting out, as usual 
when displeased, an ‘‘ Oh, bother ! ” but he real- 
ized how critical the time was, both for him and 
for Fred Thorncroft, and luckily restrained him- 
self in time. 

The father and mother consulted in whispers 
for a moment or two, during which time he in- 


SATURDAY 


76 

formed her of the arrangements he had made to 
be away from his practice until Wednesday morn- 
ing. 

“ That’s delightful ! I am so glad ! ” In her 
pleasure she had spoken aloud. Tom’s ears were 
on the alert. 

‘‘Hooray!” shouted Tom unceremoniously, 
taking her expression of pleasure as a favorable 
verdict for himself and Fred Thorncroft. 

“ Why are we favored with such a demonstra- 
tion, Thomas?” asked his father. 

“ Didn’t mamma say ‘ That’s delightful I ’ 
papa? Don’t that mean that Fred and I are to 
go?” 

“ Indeed it meant no such thing, but if you 
promise to behave when you are out at your 
uncle’s, and not to break any limbs, personal or 
of trees, nor frighten the ducks and geese, nor get 
another black eye, I think you and Fred may 
come along. Fred, do you think you could get 
up early enough for a five o’clock Mass to-mor- 
row? We start at half past seven from the 
Union Depot.” 

“ Yes, sir,” said the delighted Fred. “ James, 
our stable man, is always up by that time on Sun- 
days. He goes to that Mass always. I’ll get 
him to wake me. Thank you, sir.” 

“ Good night, my boy. Get to bed as soon as 
you can. You will need all the sleep you can get. 


SATURDAY 


77 


The dust-man has been in your eyes hours ago.’^ 
Fred was wide awake at this moment, and so 
was Tom. You would not have doubted it had 
you heard the noise the two made as they ran 
down-stairs in glee. Such shaking of hands ! 
Such punching each other for joy! Well, they 
acted just like any other two boys in any part of 
the world would act upon receiving such good 
news after a period of anxious uncertainty. 


CHAPTER X. 


THE WAGON RIDE 

U NCLE WILLIAM’S farm was an ideal 
place for city boys to spend an ideal 
vacation. The house was large and 
rambling, with any number of barns and stables 
and outhouses, the use or purpose of which 
neither Tom nor Fred could divine. At a glance, 
however, in true boy fashion, they realized what 
famous places they all would be for playing “ hi 
spy ” and “ hide and seek,” where a boy could 
hide “ real,” and would have to be hunted for in 
earnest. It w^as all delightful. 

Then the green fields ! how wonderfully green 
they were! Were there ever such meadows? 
and the little lake, and a real boat on it I 

The farm was on a rich rolling upland, well 
kept, and with an air of peace and plenty every- 
where. Both from front door and kitchen door 
one could look over an undulating country for 
many miles. The heat of the summer was con- 
stantly tempered by invigorating breezes that 
swept over the uplands. 

When Tom and his party visited the farm it 

78 


THE WAGON RIDE 


79 


was a little too early for autumn fruits and too 
late for the early summer strawberries. Owing 
to this circumstance Tom was saved from numer- 
ous sudden sicknesses, the nature of which every 
boy will understand. Nevertheless both boys, 
you may be sure, found plenty to interest them. 
Tom had to be careful to keep those numerous 
promises he had made to his father about broken 
limbs and black eyes and other things. 

Before we get to the farm, however, we have 
to narrate an event in which Master Tom figured 
somewhat conspicuously. Just as the train was 
slowing up at the country station, Tom was look- 
ing out of the car window. He saw across a 
field a company of gypsies, among whom were 
two women with very conspicuous red and blue 
dresses, strange-looking turbans on their heads, 
and large gold rings in their ears. Near them 
a young man held the chain of a tame brown 
bear. 

Now, of all things in the world that had a fas- 
cination for Master Tom Losely it was a bear. 
He certainly would have started off alone in the 
direction of the gypsies as soon as the train had 
come to a standstill had not so many other things 
attracted his attention just then. He kept his 
own counsel, determined to keep his eyes open 
on his way to the farm. Something might hap- 
pen. 


8o 


THE WAGON RIDE 


The farm lay about three miles from the depot, 
and Dr. Losely’s brother William had brought 
his wife with him in the family carriage to meet 
the town folks on their arrival at the station. A 
family carriage would not conveniently hold more 
than four grown persons, so Uncle William had 
fitted up a hay-wagon with seats and blankets, 
and had brought Esther and Gerald and Leonard 
to meet their brother Tom and his friend Fred. 
In the wagon were also several cousins of Tom, 
many of whom he had never seen. His sister 
and two younger brothers, who had been sent out 
to the farm quite early in the summer, were all 
as brown as berries from their constant outdoor 
life. Brothers, sister, and cousins, all red and 
rosy, formed as merry a party of children as ever 
rode on a hay-rack. It is said that a wagon- 
load of monkeys is the most mischievous thing 
in creation. If that be so, it is also certain that 
a hay-rack load of healthy, lively, happy children 
is the noisiest and jolliest thing in creation. 
Didn’t these children sing and shout and chatter ! 
Was there ever such fun as they had during that 
ride? 

** Take good care of the children, George,” 
said Farmer Losely, as he started for home with 
the older folks ; ‘‘ dinner will be ready by the 
time you reach home.” 


THE WAGON RIDE 


8l 


All right, sir; I’ll look after them. Shall I 
whip any of them if they are bad? ” 

‘‘ Yes, yes; give them a good cowhiding when 
they deserve it,” said Uncle William, with a 
hearty laugh good to hear, as he whipped up the 
carriage horses. 

“ You hear, children, what the boss says,” said 
George, the farm-hand. “ I’m to use the raw- 
hide, and my ! it hurts.” 

For answer to his dire threat Tom was sur- 
prised to see his brother Leonard snuggle up 
under the left arm of George, while Esther quite 
cosily took the seat at his right, and seemed 
pleased to occupy the coveted place in front. 

George Wood was only a hired man, yet there 
was good reason for the children to love him. 
He was the son of a small farmer in the neigh- 
borhood and had hired himself to Farmer Losely 
to help pay off the mortgage on his father’s farm. 
Clean of limb and in habit, well built, strong and 
muscular from a life of healthful outdoor exercise, 
George possessed one of those remarkably clear 
complexions which, with all her beauty-sleeps, a 
lady of fashion could never hope to attain, al- 
though she would give half a fortune to possess 
it. His was a clear skin with the faintest natural 
blush on his cheeks ; he had the whitest of laugh- 
ing teeth, which tobacco smoke had never soiled. 


82 


THE WAGON RIDE 


His eyes were a dark blue, making a fine con- 
trast to his rich brown hair. 

George’s employer knew his worth on the 
farm, and the farmer’s wife was not slow to rec- 
ognize what a treasure they possessed with re- 
gard to the children. When they were with 
him her mind was at rest. He was like the sun- 
shine, always smiling at his task. He had the 
secret of success, for he labored to have the work 
done and not to have the hours pass. 

He would tell the children stories by the dozen, 
sing songs for them, make whistles from willow 
sticks, catch rabbits for them, take them fishing 
and bait their hooks, and all was done so merrily 
and so cheerily that it was a pleasure to be in his 
company. 

Such characters, who seem to possess the secret 
of life, are scarce, but occasionally one is to be 
found here or there ; and when Mr. Losely found 
this one he was loth to let him go at any price. 

“ Now, if you are good children, I will tell 
you a story as we ride home.” 

All promised to be ever so good,” and he 
straightway began to tell them about a wonder- 
ful house that a certain wonderful individual 
named Jack had built, and of a wonderful cow 
with a crumpled horn, and a wonderful cat, and 
a wonderful rat, and a milkmaid, and many other 
wonderful people and wonderful events. 


THE WAGON RIDE 


83 


The children listened quietly. They were 
much interested in George's unique versions of 
the famous old nursery-rhymes of our childhood 
days. 

The hay-wagon had arrived within a quarter 
of a mile from the house when, thinking that 
Tom was wonderfully quiet, the hired man 
looked around to see whether all his party 
were safe. Fred Thorncroft, as soon as the 
driver began to tell stories, had secured a seat 
next to him, Leonard reluctantly making room 
for him. To George’s surprise, he discovered 
that Master Thomas Losely was missing. 

‘‘Where’s your brother Tom, Gerald?” he 
asked of the younger boy. 

Gerald looked around and was surprised that 
his brother was not there. While all had been 
intent on listening to George’s stories, and had 
crowded to the front part of the wagon, Tom 
Losely had quietly dropped off the rear. 

The driver became very anxious. He ques- 
tioned the children closely when they had last 
seen Master Tom on the wagon. All had been 
so interested in his story-telling that no one 
seemed to remember much about Tom after he 
had tumbled into the wagon with the rest at the 
station. 

George was undecided what to do. He did not 
know whether to turn the horses and go back in 


84 


THE WAGON RIDE 


search of the missing boy, or, being so near his 
destination, to drive up to the farmhouse and in- 
form the boy’s father and uncle of the disap- 
pearance. He decided to do the latter. 

Telling the children to hold tight and not fall 
out, he whipped the horses into a good run, ar- 
riving at the barn just as Mr. William Losely 
was leading the carriage team to the stable. 

There was great consternation when the news 
was told. Dr. Losely decided to re-enter the 
carriage, and with George, who knew all the 
country roads quite well, to go in search of his 
missing son. 

“ Is there any water in the neighborhood ? ” 
he asked of the hired man. 

None except our own pond nearer than Pike 
Lake, sir. That is more than five miles away.” 

“ Isn’t it strange that you couldn’t drive home 
a number of children without losing one of 
them ? ” asked the doctor, somewhat harshly. 

No, sir,” said George, in an open, manly 
way, that at once took with the doctor ; ‘‘ chil- 
dren in the country are in the habit of taking 
care of themselves. I did not think it necessary 
to watch so big a boy as your son Tom.” 

You are quite right. Forgive me. I am a 
little worried about the rascal. I suppose it is 
one of Master Tom’s usual pranks. I guess I 


THE WAGON RIDE 85 

will have to borrow a strap from you when we 
get him home.” 

“ He’s safe, surely, somewhere,” said George. 
‘Hf we do not find him he may have to spend a 
night in the woods. That’s the worst that will 
happen him, that’s sure.” 

“ You are a good boy,” said the doctor. “ I 
thank you. That reminds me : it would be a 
good thing to say a prayer to St. Anthony. Are 
you a Catholic?” 

“ Why, sure ! ” 

The ring of triumph in the tone was true and 
the look of pride in the young man’s face was 
good to see. It accounted for much of that 
charm which he possessed over young children. 
It told of goodness of heart and a clean life. 
God bless such young fellows. They are as 
pleasant to meet with as sunshine after rain. 

Both blessed themselves and said the Hail 
Mary three times in honor of St. Anthony. 


CHAPTER XL 


WHERE WAS TOM ? 

T he dinner hour came and passed with no 
sign of the missing boy. The two 
searchers hunted up and down every 
crossroad. One or the other made incursions 
into the forest, but there was no sign of Tom. 

By three o’clock Dr. Losely returned home. 
When he arrived, Esther was in tears, and Gerald 
and Leonard were sitting on the front porch very 
solemn and quiet. 

“Any news, papa? Did you find Tommy?” 
asked Esther. 

“No, I have not. We can not get any trace 
of him.” 

“ That’s the strangest thing I ever heard of in 
all my life, John,” said Dr. Losely’s brother. 

“ Very strange, indeed,” replied the doctor. 

“ My goodness ! ” continued the farmer, “ to 
think that a youngster can be lost from ten o’clock 
until near five — see, it’s that now — in this part 
of the country, where everybody knows every- 
body. Why, it’s wonderful, I do declare!” 

86 


WHERE WAS Tout 8 / 

“ What is the best thing to do? ” asked Tom’s 
father. 

“ George, you go and get some dinner, and 
then go along the concession road and ask the 
neighbors to send help. We’ll make a search 
party.” 

“I’ll go at once; the food can wait.” 

“ No, get your dinner first; you must be hun- 

“ Never mind that. At least I’ll run down to 
Willises’ and tell them to send word up and down 
the road.” 

“Well, drive the carriage down there. A 
man can’t travel all day without food.” 

The neighbors, good-hearted people, soon gath- 
ered. They thought it best at once to institute 
a search of the territory between the farm and 
the village. Having changed horses. Dr. Losely 
and George again took the carriage and helped 
in the search. 

This time they took the road leading to the 
forest which covered the hillsides and stretched 
away for miles. By the time they had reached 
the edge of the'woods the sun had sunk like a 
ball of fire to the rim of the horizon. 

It was not long before the gloaming came. 
Suddenly, at about a quarter of a mile away, 
along the winding forest road they saw blue 


88 


WHERE WAS TOM? 


smoke curling up and dissipating itself among 
the darkening foliage. 

Tying their horses to a tree, they approached 
cautiously. At a bend in the road they came, 
without warning, upon a camp of gypsies who 
were preparing their evening meal. 

As soon as the gypsies were conscious that 
they had been perceived, one of the band set up 
a peculiarly low, mournful, whistling sound, 
which was immediately answered by some one 
farther away. 

Dr. Losely walked into the middle of the camp. 
He at once stated his errand. 

“ I have lost my son since eleven o’clock this 
morning. Do you know anything of him?” 

There was no response. The six or seven 
men around the camp-fire continued stolidly 
smoking, while the two women in red and blue 
dresses attended to the fire and a large kettle 
swung above it. 

‘‘ I need hardly say,” continued the physician, 
“ that you will be well paid if I find you have 
taken care of him, and he is unhurt.” 

What would we want with your boy? ” said 
one of the men. “ You are a city man. No 
boy of yours would be any good to us.” 

Dr. Losely was not of the same opinion, espe- 
cially as the papers had, just at this time, a good 


WHERE WAS Tour 89 

deal about kidnaping and ransoming rich men’s 
sons. 

“ But have you seen him ? ” he asked. 

“ I didn’t say I had,” continued the burly 
horse-trader. ‘‘ How old is he ? ” 

‘‘ Eight years, and stout for his age.” 

No, we haven’t seen anything of him, have 
we, men ? ” said the spokesman of the group, ap- 
pealing to the others, who gave a sort of non- 
committal growl. 

Dr. Losely, from their manner, felt sure that 
they knew more than they cared to tell. 

‘‘ Look here, men,” he said, “ my boy, as you 
say, would be of no service to you; but if he is 
here. I’ll pay you well for your trouble, and take 
him home.” 

“ I didn’t say we had seen anything of him, 
or anything like it; but what would you be will- 
ing to pay now, if one of us men took up the 
search for you and found the kid ? ” 

I’ll pay you well. Fifty dollars to every 
one who joins in the search, and a hundred to the 
one who finds him. Will you help me I ” 

The gypsies consulted together for a moment, 
the women nodding their heads vigorously at 
them to induce them to accept the offer. No 
answer, however, was given, for just at that mo- 
ment a wild halloo sounded through the woods. 
The shout was answered by others not far off. 


90 


WHERE WAS TOM? 


‘‘Hurrah! hurrah! boys; we’ve found him 
asleep in the woods.” 

The father’s heart bounded with joy. He de- 
liberately made the sign of the cross. 

The men around the camp-fire were greatly 
confused and not a little frightened. They were 
eight, and there were two women. Two men 
only were standing before them. From the 
sounds which came from the woods in two dif- 
ferent directions and were being answered from 
farther and farther away, the gypsies did not 
know how many men would soon be upon them. 
If they showed fight they might get the worst 
of it. 

Frank Willis came down the mountain path, 
bearing in his arms Master Tom Losely. 

Our hero presented a sorry appearance. His 
face was scratched and bleeding, his clothes were 
sadly torn — and it was his Sunday suit, too — 
his big yoke collar had become half unbuttoned 
and was sadly bedraggled. He rested his head 
on Willis’s shoulder, as if he were utterly tired 
out and exhausted. 

By this time four more of the searchers had 
joined the doctor. They were, consequently, six, 
or five if one were necessary to look after the 
safety of the boy, should there be any attempt to 
punish the gypsies for kidnaping. 

Five to eight and two women would be a 


WHERE WAS TOMf 9I 

rather unequal contest, as Mr. Losely saw, al- 
though he felt very much inclined to punish those 
who he felt sure had attempted to steal his child. 

Tommy, my boy, how came you here in the 
gypsies’ camp? Speak, lad; don’t be afraid.” 

I ain’t afraid, papa ; but oh ! I’m so tired. 
Let me sleep.” 

“No, no; wait a minute. Tell me how you 
came here.” 

“ I jumped out of the hay- wagon without 
George’s knowing, because I saw a bear over 
near the woods. I wanted to go up to it.” 

“ What then?” 

“ As soon as the bear saw me it got up and 
ran away. It was a funny bear, papa, ’cause it 
dragged a long chain after it. I ran after it, 
and, papa, it went through a big berry-patch, and 
I was scratched awful and I bleeded more’n I 
did when that fellow hit me on the lip in the 
vacant lots.” 

“ What happened then ? How did you get 
here? ” 

“ Oh ! I don’t know. I sat down on a tree 
to rest, and then an old woman — there ! there 
she is — ” and Tom pointed to one of the women 
at the cauldron who strongly resembled one of 
Macbeth’s witches — “ there she is, papa. She 
gave me a drink and then I got sleepy, and my 
head went round and round, and the trees began 


92 


WHERE WAS TOM? 


to dance around, too, and I laughed and shouted, 
and then I was put down on a green bank, and 
that’s all I know. I’m so tired, and hungry too, 
papa ! ” 

Dr. Losely looked at his watch, which he 
closed with an angry click. 

“ You, you — people, were not content with 
keeping my son, but you have kept him from 
eleven in the morning until now — nine o’clock 
— without food.” 

“ He’s been sleeping all the time,” said one of 
the men. 

“ Drugged, I suppose. Look at him now. 
Bring the boy here, Willis.” 

Tom’s father put his face close to the boy’s 
mouth and smelled his breath. Tom’s head had 
sunk on Willis’s shoulder and he was again fast 
asleep. The doctor turned to the gypsies and 
said, sternly: 

“If you don’t put twenty miles between this 
place and you before sunrise I will have every 
one of you arrested. I mean what I say.” 

The itinerant horse-traders knew that he meant 
it, too, and began at once to pack up their chat- 
tels and untether their trading-horses. 

Thus Master Tom Losely had quite a strange 
adventure on his first day in the country. On 
his return home we may be sure he did not fail 
duly to impress Jane with the important part he 
had played in it. 


CHAPTER XII. 


OUT EARLY 

E ven a dose of the sleeping-draught is not 
a thing to keep the average boy in bed 
long after sunrise when on his summer 
vacation. When Mr. Thomas Losely arose he 
felt just a little shaky on his legs for a minute 
or two, but after he had taken his usual matutinal 
sponge bath he was the same lively and mischiev- 
ous lad as ever. 

It was not many minutes after his eyes were 
open that he was out on an exploring expedition, 
looking at the barns, stables, pens, garden, or- 
chard — everything, and, as we may well sup- 
pose, forming his plans for his day’s campaign. 
Peering into the dark barn through the little side 
door, he espied George hard at work. George 
saw him. 

“ Hello, gypsy ! ” 

“ Good morning, George,” said Tom. 

Good morning; come in.” 

Tom stepped into the barn’s large floor-space. 

How do you feel this morning ? ” 

“ Hungry,” was the boy’s laconic reply. It 

93 


94 


OUT EARLY 


was truthful, nevertheless — Jane or his mother 
would have been willing to vouch for that. 

You are up early,” said George. 

I ain’t, neither,” replied Tom. 

Do you know what the time is ? 

‘‘ Near breakfast-time, I hope,” said the little 
man, feeling his stomach sympathetically. 

The children’s friend burst out laughing. 

You will have to wait nearly two hours for 
that. It’s only a little after five o’clock.” 

“My!” said Tom, in dismay, “I’m sorry I 
got up so early.” 

“ I am going to milk the cows directly. I’ll 
get you some bread from the kitchen and give 
you a drink of fresh warm milk. Do you think 
that will last you till breakfast-time? ” 

“ Oh I George, you’re a — duck ! ” 

“ That’s better than being a goose, at all 
events, eh?” 

“ Hello, Fred; you up, too? ” said Tom, as his 
companion appeared at the small door of the 
barn. Fred, who had slept at the other end of 
the large room, had been aroused by Tom’s 
splashing himself and his ohs! and ahs! and his 
puffings and blowings. Once awake, he had 
thought it better to get up. 

“ Tom, Tom Losely,” said Fred, seriously, 
“have you forgotten anything this morning?” 

The boy addressed felt all over his linen suit. 


OUT EARLY 


95 


which his mother had put out for him so that 
he would see it on awaking; looked at his shoes, 
felt of his necktie, and looked puzzled. He then 
felt for his handkerchief in his pocket and dis- 
covered that it was not there. 

“ I guess my han-ke-chief is up-stairs,” he 
said. 

“ I don’t mean that ; something more impor- 
tant,” said Thorncroft. 

Tom thought a moment. 

Oh ! I know ! My jack-knife and my top 
and marbles are in my Sunday clothes. I’ll get 
them after breakfast.” 

“ Something more important than these things, 
Tom.” 

‘‘No, Fred; I ain’t got nothing more impor- 
tant’n these things.” 

“ Say, Tom.” 

“Yes?” 

“ Didn’t you jump up in a hurry, and you 
were out- of doors almost as soon as you were 
dressed ? ” 

“ Sure.” 

“ And didn’t you forget to kneel down and 
say your morning prayers? ” 

Tom blushed. This is exactly what had hap- 
pened, although, to do him justice, it was very 
unusual. 

George, who all this time had remained a quiet 


OUT EARLY 


96 

observer of the dialogue, now took the little fel- 
low’s hand gently. 

Is that so? ” 

‘‘ Yes,” came from Tom in almost a whisper. 

Is that right, Tom?” 

No, it ain’t.” 

‘‘ Well, then,” asked George, what are you 
going to do ? ” 

Say ’em now,” and Tom turned to go to the 
house. 

You need not go indoors, Tom. Don’t you 
think the good Lord will hear you as well in a 
barn as in your room?” 

“All right,” said Tom, and he at once knelt 
down in a corner of the barn floor and recited 
his morning devotions. 

George waited, cap in hand, until he had fin- 
ished and had blessed himself. 

“ Tom ? ” 

“ Yes ? ” 

“ I noticed you forgot one prayer.” 

“ Which was that? ” 

“You didn’t ask your guardian angel to take 
care of you to-day.” 

“ Urn ! um ! I forgot,” and he knelt down again 
and recited : 

Angel of God, my guardian dear, 

To whom His love commits me here, 


OUT EARLY 


97 


Ever this day be at my side, 

To guard, enlighten, rule and guide. 

George Wood must have had a kind of fore- 
knowledge of the day’s happenings, for surely, 
if we may reverently so speak, Tom’s guardian 
angel never had a harder day’s work than to keep 
his little charge from all harm on that celebrated 
Monday. 

Before nine Tom had nearly broken his neck; 
before ten he had narrowly escaped breaking a 
leg ; and before dinner — but we will wait. These 
escapades have to be related more fully when 
the time comes. 

Of course at breakfast that morning there was 
nothing talked of but the boy’s strange adven- 
ture of the day before. His cousin Ernest, about 
Tom’s own age, seems to have almost worshipped 
our young hero, and was never done talking 
about the adventure. Fred Thorncroft, too, 
made the most of it. He had pleasant visions 
of the wonderful tales he would tell the Invinci- 
bles and the Unconquerables and Digger and the 
others when he got home. He had one regret, 
which was that he himself had not been the hero 
instead of his friend Tom Losely. 

But that first breakfast ! Didn’t the three boys’ 
eyes — and Gerald’s and Leonard’s too, for that 
matter ‘ — fairly bulge when Aunt Ellen brought 


98 


our EARLY 


in a big dish piled mountain-high with buckwheat 
cakes! And oh! that unlimited supply of maple 
syrup! It was in no little glass jug with a silver 
top, as at home, but was brought in in a large 
pitcher which seemed to say as plainly as pitchers 
could talk: “Help yourselves plentifully, boys; 
there’s more where this came from. You need 
not be afraid of the cry ‘ Be careful with the 
syrup, children ’ in this house.” 

“ Tommy, tell us all you remember of yester- 
day’s happenings,” said his father, as soon as 
the first onslaught on the buckwheat cakes had 
subsided, and while they were waiting for an- 
other supply which Aunt Ellen had gone out to 
the kitchen to bring in. 

“ I don’t seem to remember much, papa. I 
slipped off the wagon while George was singing 
a song, and Esther and Gerald and Lenny and 
all my cousins were laughing at it. I was afraid 
they would see me and stop the wagon, so I hid 
behind some bushes on the roadside. When the 
wagon was out of sight I turned up a road where 
I thought I should. find the people with the bear I 
had seen from the window of the train. When 
I found them, the bear was lying in the dust in 
the middle of the road, and a man with a short 
coat and a .funny red hat was leaning on the 
bank. He was not holding the chain,” 


OUT EARLY 99 

‘‘Were you not afraid of the bear?” asked 
Fred Thorncroft. 

Truthful Tom hesitated a moment before an- 
swering. Till the present moment he had never 
thought about it. He really did not know wheth- 
er he was afraid or not. He was fascinated by 
the tame bear and followed it without thinking 
of any possible danger. 

“ The bear, seeing it was free, began to run, 
and then I followed it through the brambles, and 
that’s where I scratched my face — but it ain’t 
another black eye, papa.” 

“So I see,” said his father; “you are excel- 
lent in keeping to the letter of the law. But go 
on with your story.” 

“ Well, when I sat down on the side of the 
road to rest and saw the old woman in a red 
dress come to me, with a tin cup in her hand, 
then I began to be afraid, and wished I was 
home with mamma. My! she was awful ugly, 
and she looked like this, didn’t she, papa ? ” 

Master Tom tried to pucker up his lips, wrinkle 
his face, and make himself cross-eyed. Instead 
of representing in the least a haggard old wom- 
an’s face, he only succeeded in making himself 
look extremely comical. Everybody laughed 
heartily at his efforts. 

“ I thought she was bringing me a cup of cold 
water from the spring across the road, but when 


100 


OUT EARLY 


I tasted it, it was awful hot. It looked like 
water, so I didn’t know.” 

“ Well, you are a lucky boy to be sitting here 
eating pancakes this morning,” said his father. 

“ Yes, sir.” 

Tom did not know whether this was mere 
comment, or reprimand. 

“ You might have been stolen for good, and 
never have seen us any more.” 

“ Yes, sir.” 

Now to-day, take care you do not get into 
any more mischief.” 

“ Yes, sir. My guardian ang — ” 

“ What’s that? ” asked his father sharply. He 
thought he detected a species of levity in Tom’s 
manner. Tom went on unconscious of the sharp- 
ness of his father’s tone. 

“ My guardian angel is going to take care of 
me all day. I asked him in the barn.” 

“ In the barn ! What do you mean, child ? ” 
said his mother. 

Tom blushed once again, as he had done be- 
fore that morning. However, he told his fault 
out manfully. 

I forgot to say my morning prayers when I 
got up, and Fred came out and reminded me, and 
I told him and George I had forgotten. Then 
George made me kneel down on the barn floor 
and say them, and made me pray ’special to my 


OUT EARLY 


lOI 


angel to keep me safe all day. He said he 
guessed my angel would have lots of work to- 
day.” 

“ Oh, Tom ! how can you talk like that? ” said 
Ethel, reprovingly. 

“ What’s wrong, Ethel ? I guess it’s true, 
isn’t it?” 

But weren’t you afraid, Tom, he would eat 
you up?” asked Fred. 

“ My angel ? ” 

“ No, the bear.” Fred’s mind was still run- 
ning on the bear incident. 

“ ’Fraid of the bear. No. Sure, I’d seen 
bears before. I was more afraid of the people. 
When he got up out of the dust I went up to 
him and he began to run away. The man kept 
saying, ‘ Yi, yi, yi, yi, yi,’ — like that — and 
beat a little drum. I think he wanted the bear 
to dance for me. But the bear began to run 
along the road. It was great fun. I tried to 
catch up, and then the silly old bear went into 
the raspberry patch, and that’s where I got so 
scratched.” 

At this point Tom’s voice had such a lugu- 
brious tone in it that all burst out laughing. 

And that’s where you spoiled your Sunday 
clothes,” remarked his mother. 

“ Never mind, ma dear, when I get big I’ll 
buy some more,” said Tom. 


102 


OUT EARLY 


“ He’ll wear his torn ones back into the city. 
It will be a lesson for him and teach him not to 
run after dancing bears,” said his father. 

Nevertheless, before Tom finished his vaca- 
tion a package addressed to him was brought 
by a certain person in whom Tom was particu- 
larly interested. The package contained a new, 
tight-fitting suit of black, some upright collars, 
and a neat tie. Master Losely actually shouted 
when he saw the collars. At last he had done 
with the large yoke collars — that bane of lively 
boys — forever. 


CHAPTER XIII. 
tom’s first day 

N o SOONER was breakfast finished than 
Tom, Fred, and Ernest made for the big 
barn. It was a great structure with a 
lean-to horse stable at one end. Of course the 
city boys had to explore the great mows. The 
one opposite the stable end was filled high up 
with sheaves of golden wheat. It was a high 
climb for Tom Losely up the center ladder, and 
a by no means easy thing for him, when at the 
top, to swing himself to the inner side, but he 
succeeded at last. It was a strange experience 
for him to be high up under the roof, with wheat 
enough beneath his feet to feed him for a life- 
time. 

George had been told not to take the horses 
afield that day. His duty for the present lay in 
doing odd jobs of repairing and more especially 
of keeping an eye on the vivacious visitors, with 
special attention to be given to Master Tom. 

There was no trouble about the girls. They 
would not require watching. Esther and her 
girl cousins had taken little Lenny out into the 

103 


104 


TOM^S FIRST DA Y 


rich pasture and adjoining woods. They were 
soon busy making daisy chains of the beautiful 
marguerites that grew in abundance there and 
filled the fields with stars. 

Everything was new, strange, wonderful and 
delightful to the city boys. 

“ Hi, George,” shouted Tom from his lofty 
position under the roof, “ here’s some eggs up 
here; lots of ’em.” 

Glad to hear it. Bring them down.” 

“ I can’t. I am afraid of the old hen. She’s 
awful spiteful. Shuh I shuh ! ” 

And then followed a series of shrill shrieks. 
Tom had been attacked by the hen, and had 
learned from actual experience what it is to be 
“ henpecked.” George went laughing to his 
work in the stable. 

We had better draw a veil over Tom’s unsuc- 
cessful attempt to carry himself and a hatful 
of eggs down a perpendicular ladder. It wasn’t 
a success. Kind Aunt Ellen had his linen suit 
washed and dried within an hour. 

By nine o’clock Tom was up in the opposite 
mow, which was filled with new hay. This was 
delightful. Fred and he thought they had never 
smelled anything more delicious. They lay on 
it, and buried themselves in it. 

But this did not long satisfy the eight-year- 
old activity of Tom. Tie mounted a large cross- 


TOM^S FIRST DAY 105 

beam at the gable end of the barn and worked 
himself up to a point near the highest part of 
the roof. From there he let himself fall back- 
ward about ten feet into the soft, yielding hay. 
This was a new and delightful sensation. He 
induced Fred to try it. It had no fascination 
for the country boy, Ernest, yet he was glad his 
visitors could get amusement out of it. 

Suddenly George, who was busy mending 
some harness in the stable, heard an unearthly 
yell from poor Tom, and saw one of the legs of 
that worthy projecting through the bars of an 
overhead hay-rack in one of the horse-stalls. 
The animal was frightened at the strange object, 
and backed and strained at its halter-strap, prob- 
ably wondering what kind of diet boy’s leg would 
be. 

“ Keep quite still, Tom. Don’t move, or you 
will have your leg bitten off,” said George, as 
he hurried from the stable floor and thence to the 
haymow. 

Luckily for the madcap, the horse in that par- 
ticular stall was the one used by Mrs. William 
Losely on her marketing expeditions because of 
its gentle disposition. It was lucky for Tom 
that he fell into the rack of that particular stall, 
for there were quite vicious horses on both sides, 
that would have delighted in a change of diet in 
the shape of a boy’s leg for breakfast. Clinging 


io6 


TOM^S FIRST DAY 


to a brace, George bent down and pulled Tom 
up from his perilous position. 

“My! but you had a narrow escape that time,” 
said the farm-hand. 

“ Didn’t know there was loose hay over the 
rack,” said Tom. 

“ You know now, don’t you? ” 

“ Guess I do.” 

Are you not glad you said the prayer to the 
guardian angel ? ” 

“ Guess I am.” 

“ Don’t you think it would be better to get 
down out of the haymow now ? ” 

“ Dunno,” said Tom. “ ’Specks it would.” 

“ Well, then, get on my back and I’ll carry 
you down the ladder.” 

What fun that was for Tom, who was no 
weight for the stalwart young man. 

“ Now run around the barn-yard and see what 
you can find to amuse you.” 

The two boys started off, delighted with the 
turkeys and the guinea-hens with their peculiar 
calls. Tom soon had the calls down pat. The 
ducks, geese, chickens, and the great porkers all 
had interest for them for a while, but Tom had 
to be doing something. Mere looking at things 
would not satisfy him long. 

“ Let’s hunt for eggs,” said Fred, nothing 
daunted by Tom’s past mishaps in that direction. 


TOM^S FIRST DAY 


107 

“ All right, let’s ” — and the two boys were 
soon busy prying into every hole and corner. 
Presently Master Tom spied a nest with a hen 
sitting on it. Over the nest had been built a 
shelter of boughs. 

“ Guess that’s a kind of queer hen — must be 
sort of boss,” said young Losely. 

‘‘ Let’s see if she’s got any eggs,” suggested 
Fred Thorncroft. 

“Shoo! shoo!” began Tom, without hesita- 
tion. “ Oh, my ! here’s eighteen at least,” as, 
amid a great fuss and noise, the hen went scream- 
ing and clucking away. 

Carefully they put this find into Tom’s hat. 
Carefully, oh, so carefully, he walked to the house 
with his treasure, determined, this time, not to 
require that his linen suit be washed again, at 
least before dinner-time. 

“ Look here, Fred Thorncroft,” said Tom, 
when they were quite close to the house, “ that 
egg is cracked. Ain’t it funny it don’t spill out 
like the others did this morning ? ” 

Aunt Ellen heard them chattering outside the 
kitchen door. She opened it and asked them 
what they had found this time. 

“ Oh, Aunty ! we haven’t broken any this time,” 
said Tom, in triumph. “ One does seem to be 
cracked, but it don’t spill out any.” 


TOM^S FIRST DAY 


lo8 

Where did you find them ? ” asked the boy’s 
aunt, suspiciously. 

“ Down in the corner of the barn-yard, under- 
neath a brush roof,” answered Tommy. 

The farmer’s wife gave a look at the hatful 
and — gasped. 

Such boys I never did see in all my born 
days ! ” 

'‘What’s the matter. Aunty? They are nice 
eggs — all of ’em, ’cept the one that’s cracked,” 
said Master Tom. 

“ That’s my special setting ! I expected to 
have out a brood of young ducklings by next 
Saturday. You’ve gone and spoiled the whole 
hatching ! ” 

To complicate matters. Tommy’s mother ap- 
peared on the scene just at the inopportune mo- 
ment — for Tom. Once more we must invoke 
the aid of the kindly curtain to hide from the 
reader what poor, innocent (of course) and much 
abused Tom suffered on this occasion. It was 
too bad. He meant well. But how should a 
city boy know the difference between a nest of 
eggs belonging to a setting hen and one not so 
belonging? How many city “ grown-ups ” could 
make the distinction? 


CHAPTER XIV. 


TOM WRITES A LETTER 

O NLY half a day of Tom Losely’s real va- 
cation had been passed, and we already 
find him in durance vile. Well, the im- 
prisonment in the house was not so bad, for it 
rained heavily on Monday afternoon. All the 
merry party of children had to find amusement 
indoors. 

The city children were taken by their cousins 
up into the dark old attic of the large farm- 
house. Here they found immense amusement in 
rifling old trunks and unearthing old-fashioned 
picture-books from among the rubbish that had 
been accumulating there for generations. 

A book of fairy stories of the old style soon 
attracted the girls to one end of the attic where 
there was light enough to read. The boys did 
not care for such things just then, but continued 
to ransack the attic for treasures. 

Suddenly Master Tom Losely was struck with 
an idea. 

“ You, Fred, stay here with Ernest and Lenny. 

Eve got to go and see mamma for a minute.” 

109 


TOM WRITES A LETTER 


1 10 

Madcap clattered noisily down the attic stairs 
to his mother’s room. 

“ What’s the matter, Tom?” asked his mother 
in some little alarm. 

“ Oh ! mamma, I’ve been here all this time 
and I haven’t written to Jane to tell her how we 
are getting along.” 

“ Very well. You may go down to the front 
parlor and ask your Aunt Ellen to give you a 
pen, ink, and some paper. Tell her you will be 
very careful to make no blots on the table-cloth.” 

“ All right, mamma dear,” and away he flew, 
earnestly intent on his new project. To the re- 
lief of his mother and Aunt Ellen, it kept him 
employed for an hour — under the circumstances 
something appreciated by the grown people. 
The result of his labors was the following epistle, 
which he requested his mother to mail that very 
night : 

Dear Jane: 

I told you the day I plaid ball I would someday 
run away to join the Indgens. Well i nerely did only 
they was gipses. Papa searched ever so long for 
me among the gipse — i meen the indgens and 
found me sleepin’ like the babes in the woods, i 
have maid up my mind i wont run off this summer, 
’cause i am having so good a time at uncle Williams 
and Anty ellens, but when i come home if you dont 
treet me like a pore booy which is awefull hungery 


TOsM WRITES A LETTER III 

i’m goin to do it sure nex time, i think i should 
like some of them there corn’d jamb tarts as soon as 
i get home. George is the nicesest feller you ever 
seen. 

Nor more at pressint from your loving tommie.” 

About five o’clock the storm passed by. As 
Tom had been “ as good as gold ” all the after- 
noon, he was then allowed to go out with the 
other children. George was busy putting the 
feed for the night in the racks and the mangers. 
For some time he could give the children little 
attention. 

He soon came out of the stable, carrying in 
his hand a long gad,” or flexible stick, which 
he used in place of a whip. He released all the 
horses and left the stable door open. The horses 
came out, one by one, to water. 

Quietly every horse turned in the direction of 
the pond, or broadened stream, in the far corner 
of the home-pasture. The last horse to leave 
the stable was the family horse,” which had 
had so good an opportunity to make a meal off 
our young lad’s leg, but had not the sense to 
avail himself of it. He was a quiet old animal 
with a kindly eye. George held him by a long 
halter-rope. 

‘‘ Going to water the horses, Tom. Are you 
coming along? ” 

‘‘Yes, sure. Can’t I ride the brown horse?” 


II2 


TOM WRITES A LETTER 


Are you not afraid ? ” 

“Naw! ’fraid of a horse! Who’s afraid?” 

“ Well, I heard a boy screaming pretty loud 
this morning when he got pretty close to one 
of them.” 

“ That’s ’cause I couldn’t get away. George, 
let me ride down to the pond — please.” 

Very few people could withstand Tom’s coax- 
ing. Certainly the good-natured George could 
not. 

But you’ll fall off.” 

“ No, I won’t; and if I do ’twon’t hurt.” 

‘‘Won’t it? Better not try. All right. Is 
your life insured ? ” 

“ What’s that?” 

“ A joke. Never mind. There are more than 
you who can not see a joke sometimes. Come 
here.” 

George made a stirrup of his hand, telling 
Tom to spread his legs when he reached the 
horse’s back, and not to go too far and land on 
the ground on the other side. 

“Now, then, yu-up!” and Tom Losely was 
for the first time on the back of a real live horse. 
How strange everything seemed, and how shaky 
and unstable! 

The farm-hand led the horse carefully to water, 
but to Tom, mounted on high, it seemed as if 
the horse was running at a furious rate. It 


TOM WRITES A LETTER 1 13 

was the funniest experience that Tom ever had 
— till then. 

‘‘ Better get off now,” said George, as they 
reached the water’s edge. “ Better get off, for 
fear of accidents.” 

But the horse did not think so. It was a hot 
day and the poor animal was thirsty. Without 
waiting for the rider to dismount, the animal 
walked straight into the water up to its knees. 
Tom was now really frightened, and screamed 
lustily. 

“ Sit still,” said George, holding his sides at 
Tom’s fright. “ There’s no danger. Ernest 
does that every day. See, old Dobbin is going 
to drink.” 

There was nothing for Tom to do but to sit 
still. The horse put his nose under the water 
and breathed, and then went a step or two far- 
ther out from the bank. 

Now, this horse was a knowing old fellow. 
Ladies’ horses are apt to get that way. He was 
sure that Ernest was not on his back as usual, so, 
even in his old age, he must have had a tempta- 
tion to levity. 

Whether he knew there was a mere city boy 
on his back, or not, I can not say, but it is sus- 
pected that he knew that very well. We can 
afford to leave that question undecided, but we 
can not afford to leave unrecorded what that 


TOM WRITES A LETTER 


II4 

same horse had the impudence to do with Mas- 
ter Tom. 

It may have been the sting of a horse-fly, or 
it may have been a touch from George’s long 
gad, or it may have been his own knowingness, 
but he did a thing which horses seldom do when 
standing in water up to the knees. The horse 
indulged in a good sound shake. It was no 
half-and-half shake, but one of those when every 
bone in his frame is moved. Watch a horse 
after he has been rolling in the dust. That is the 
kind of shake he gave now. 

Venturesome Thomas thought the end of the 
world had come. He felt worse than after catch- 
ing the hardest ball he ever tried for. The solid 
earth seemed to be crumbling away beneath his 
feet. If Tom had ever heard the word or under- 
stood it, he would have said the situation was 
cataclysmal. 

For one moment he clutched wildly at the 
horse’s mane. It was to no effect. The know- 
ing old beast must have known who was on his 
back. Some horses know a great deal. 

Tom went sliding off, with a scream of fright, 
into three feet of water. He touched bottom 
easily enough, and came spluttering and puffing 
to the surface. The horse, as soon as he had 
accomplished his trick — if trick were intended 
— turned tail and walked to the bank. 


TOM WRITES A LETTER 1 15 

When Tom could at last discern anything, he 
saw his friend George holding Dobbin’s halter- 
rope with one hand and his own side with the 
other, while the woods echoed and re-echoed his 
laughter. 

Crestfallen Tom walked to the house in his 
dripping clothes, and notwithstanding George’s 
repeated inquiries, he was not visible to mortal 
eyes again that evening. It is hard to say wheth- 
er his mother or his Aunt Ellen had most to do 
with his total eclipse this time. We suspect it 
was the former. 

Perhaps Tom got even with George. We do 
not know for sure. It may have been the mere 
innocence of childhood, but this is the way it 
happened : 

A few days after these events the children were 
thrown into a state of rapture. They were sit- 
ting under the trees in the orchard near the house, 
laughing, and chatting, and telling stories. It 
was after supper and near the time for milking 
the cows. No one noticed the approach of a 
young woman who walked up the lane from the 
road until she was close upon the group. Esther 
looked up and saw before her — Jane, who was 
carrying a valise and a clothier’s flat cardboard 
box. The latter contained the new suit for Mas- 
ter Tom. 

In a moment all was excitement, Esther and 


Il6 TOM WRITES A LETTER 

Gerald and Leonard rushed to her and embraced 
the kindly domestic, inviting their cousins to do 
the same. 

Just at that moment George and Master Tom 
came out of the kitchen. 

“ Jane ! Jane ! Jane ! ” shouted the young mad- 
cap, and threw himself into her arms. 

George stood by, watching the scene. 

This is our Jane, George. Why don’t you 
come and do as everybody does? ” said Tom. 

George shifted from one foot to the other, 
changed the tin milk-pail from his right arm to 
his left, and actually blushed. 

He went up, however, and shook hands, and 
said, in a remarkably awkward way for him : 

I am glad to see you. Miss Jane.” 


CHAPTER XV. 


FORTUNE 

I T WOULD be an easy matter to fill a whole 
book with the adventures and happenings 
and mishaps of Tom Losely: Boy during 
that vacation. We have given enough to show 
that young Losely fairly merited the appellation 
— Boy. 

It would be quite interesting to follow his 
career from boyhood to youth, from youth to 
young manhood, and even further; but that can 
not be done in this volume, which is written to 
show that a boy may be a real boy, a true, live 
boy, and at the same time a good boy. 

Many things in Tom’s life will show how that 
young gentleman had views, sometimes peculiarly 
his own. The following incident proves this. 
It occurred about two weeks after Tom’s vaca- 
tion in the country was over. 

I think it quite safe now for you to travel. 
Father, and I congratulate you on your rapid i 
recovery,” said Dr. Losely, the visiting physician 
at the Sisters’ hospital. 

The person addressed was a country parish 


ii8 


FORTUNE 


priest, whom we have already mentioned in these 
pages. Six weeks before he had come to the 
city on business connected with his church, and 
while there had been attacked by an illness 
brought on by overwork in the care of a large 
parish. 

“ Thank you, doctor ; you have been ex- 
tremely kind,” replied the priest. “ Be good 
enough to let me know my indebtedness to you, 
that is, my cash indebtedness, for in other ways 
I shall always remain your debtor.” 

Do not mention that,” replied the physician. 

“ Yes, yes, I will, doctor. I want to know 
from you what I owe you.” 

“ Excuse me. Father,” said Dr. Losely ; you 
are a clergyman. I could not think of charging 
a priest for my services.” 

“ That would be all right,” urged the priest, 
“ if I were your own pastor; but I am not, and 
I have no right to expect you to extend such a 
courtesy to a comparative stranger.” 

But, Father,” said Dr. Losely, with a grace- 
ful bow, but with a determination in his voice 
against which the priest saw it was useless to 
argue, it is my privilege to be enabled to ex- 
tend a courtesy to a priest.” 

A few mutual expressions of good will and 
esteem, and they separated, the physician to make 


FORTUNE tig 

his round of professional calls, the priest to the 
depot to take the train for his home. 

At the same moment the above conversation 
was taking place at the hospital, two bright-eyed 
brothers, Tom and Gerald Losely, were sitting 
in the shade of the veranda of their father’s 
home. The vacation time was not yet over, so 
they had no books or lessons to mar their hap- 
piness. Both were tired of playing ball with 
Fred Thorncroft, who had gone home, and now 
they were resting. The two sat facing each 
other, with their backs against the veranda posts. 

“ Say, Tommy, let’s play wishing,” said Ger- 
ald. 

‘^Oh! what’s the use? Nothing ever comes 
true when we do wish,” replied Tom. 

“ But let’s play and ‘ make believe,’ anyway.” 

All right.” 

“ You begin,” said Gerald. 

‘‘Well,” said the elder boy, “I wish — oh! 
what shall I wish? I wish I was a priest.” 

“ I wish I was a doctor, like pa, and as brother 
William is going to be,” said Gerald. 

They both paused and looked at each other. 
There was a ^comical expression on each face, 
as if both half expected that some fairy would 
come and tell them their wishes were granted. 

There was a pause. Tom, endowed with one 
year’s more wisdom than his brother, said : 


120 


FORTUNE 


“ Look here, Gerald, this is not sensible. I 
can’t be a priest, nor you can’t be a doctor until 
bye and bye, when we’re grown up.” 

‘‘ Oh ! I don’t want to be growed up, ever. 
I want to be a boy always,” replied Gerald. 

“ I don’t. I want to be a man, like William,” 
said young Tom. 

William, the eldest boy of the family, had, 
last summer, been graduated from college and 
had attained to the dignity of medical student at 
a medical college. He was therefore regarded 
by the younger members of the family as already 
a man. 

“ Let’s wish for something for now,” said Ger- 
ald, regardless of grammar, which to him was 
yet an almost unknown science. 

“ What would vou like to have right now ? ” 
asked Tom. 

“ Peanuts ! ” said Gerald, with a sudden de- 
scent from the sublime. 

“ Boys, come here ! ” 

The voice came from some one at the garden 
gate. The two boys looked in that direction 
and saw a priest standing on the sidewalk, with 
his satchel at his feet and his purse in his hand. 
He was the same who, a few minutes before, had 
left the Sisters’ hospital. Tom and Gerald ran 
down the garden path, and stood with their hats 
in their hands. 


FORTUNE 


121 


Are you Dr. Losely’s sons ? ” 

Yes, Father.” 

“ I thought you were when I saw the name on 
the sign-post. Here’s a present of a five-dollar 
bill for you. Tell your father when he comes 
home I am going to invite you boys to spend 
some days with me. I’ll write in a day or two. 
Good-bye. I have just time to catch the train.” 

In a moment he was out of sight. The two 
brothers stood in mute surprise. They thought 
they must be dreaming, but the bill was in evi- 
dence to convince them that they were very wide- 
awake. For the first time in their life their fan- 
tastic game of wishing had materialized. They 
were almost overwhelmed with the vision of un- 
limited pop-corn, peanuts, and candy. 

After their first surprise was over they held a 
whispered conversation on the porch over their 
good fortune. At the close of an earnest con- 
versation with heads close together, the two 
glided out of the front gate and made for the 
corner grocery store in the next block. 


CHAPTER XVI. 


MR. MCCANN 

H alf an hour later there was a ring at Dr. 
Losely’s front door. William, the eldest 
brother, answered the call. 

Good day, Mr. McCann. What can I do 
for you? N;o one sick, I hope.” 

Good day to ye, sir, an’ a fine day it is. I 
just came up from me store beyant there to see 
if your house has been robbed — to find out if 
ye have discovered that ye have lost any money, 
at all.” 

“ The house robbed ! Good gracious, no ! 
What makes you think so?” asked William. 

Well, ’tis me that is glad to hear ye say so, 
for sure, for they be fine boys — the best on the 
block. Didn’t I often give them both a han’ful 
of candies on their way to school, just for the 
look of their bright eyes? God bless ’em. Still 
it’s a puzzle entirely to me old head, sure it is.” 

‘‘ What you are saying, Mr. McCann, I assure 
you, is a greater puzzle to me,” replied .William, 
very much mystified. 

Well, now, it’s a puzzle to meself, too, sir. 


122 


MR. McCANN 


123 


but I suppose it’s all right. But you’re sure ye 
haven’t been robbed, eh?” 

“ Quite sure, Mr. McCann ; but why all this 
talk about robbery?” 

“ If ye are sure of that, I suppose it’s all right, 
but how they should have so much money is past 
me; but, says I to meself, says I — ” 

“ But — ” began William. He was going to. 
ask for more explicit information, but thought 
it would be better to let the old man tell his own 
story in his own way. 

“ Go on, Mr. McCann.” 

Says I to meself, there must be something 
wrong about this, says I; yet I know they are 
honest and good boys, and Father Fowler, the 
pastor, do be having the two well in hand — 
that I knowed well enough, for don’t I see them 
serving on the altar every Sunday at the holy 
Mass, glory be? ” 

Now, William knew that two of his brothers 
served Mass on Sundays. With this light on 
the m.atter, he asked : 

“ Are you talking about my two younger broth- 
ers ? ” 

“ Who else should I be talking about to ye, 
sir? Sure, it was they as come to me store just 
now.” 

For what purpose? ” 

“ Tommy, he came in first, an’ Gerald fol- 


124 


MR. McCANN 


lowed, a kind o’ shy-like; and Tommy said, says 
he, ‘ Mr. McCann, can ye change a bill for me ? ’ 
says he. ‘ I think I can,’ says I. ‘ Is it wan or 
a two,’ says I. ‘It’s this,’ says he; an’ he puts 
down on the counter a five-dollar bill. Oh ! 
thinks I to meself, it’s his mother or yourself, 
Mr. William, has sent the boys round to the store 
to get the change. So I gives them the change. 
Then, sir, they both left the store. An’ now, 
the strange part is coming. Five minutes after 
they come back again, an’ bought ten cents’ worth 
of peanuts. I watched them boys, and says I to 
meself, says I, ‘That’s strange! they don’t go 
home, neither.’ They went across the street and 
sat on the porch of Brown’s house, under the 
shade of the big corner elm-tree there. So I 
thought I’d just come over and see if everything 
was all right, for it’s meself that would be sorry 
to see the boys into any mischief at all.” 

“ It’s all right, Mr. McCann, I am sure. I 
thank you very much for the interest you take 
in my brothers, but I am quite sure there has 
been no stealing and everything will be explained. 
Don’t be uneasy about them. I’ll see to it. 
Thank you, Mr. McCann. Good day.” 

“ I’m real glad to hear ye say so, Mr. William, 
for it’s meself that would grieve sorely to see 
any harm come to the children.” 

The kind old man, with many a bow, left the 


MR. McCANN 


125 


house, shaking his head in a puzzled way, and, 
from force of long habit, wiping his hands on his 
store apron, as he muttered to himself : “ Five 

dollars — ten cents ; peanuts ; strange — good 
boys — good boys.” 

The two youngsters had watched the journey 
of the old storekeeper. They perceived William 
answer the bell, and had seen the conversation 
they could not hear. When the old man left, 
they saw with uneasiness that William remained 
on the doorstep. Had he learned of their good 
fortune? Why didn’t he go back to his doctor 
books? He couldn’t be a doctor unless he kept 
to his books. Did he want some of their feast? 

William beckoned them. The two arose re- 
luctantly. As they went they hurriedly filled 
their pockets with the coveted peanuts from the 
bag, determined to save part of the spoils if the 
main portion was confiscated by superior force. 

‘‘ What’s the meaning of all this, Tom? ” asked 
the future physician, authoritatively. 

We did not think old McCann would mind 
changing the bill for us. We didn’t think he’d 
give us away, did we, Gerald?” 

But where on earth did you get that five- 
dollar bill ? ” 

“ A priest called us down to the gate and he 
gave it to us, didn’t he, Gerald ? ” 

“ A priest ! A priest gave you five dollars ! ” 


126 


MR. McCANN 


It’s true, William. He asked us if we were 
Dr. Losely’s sons, and then he said he had a 
present for us, and said he was going to write to 
pa. He then hurried away to catch the train.” 

The big brother was convinced that Tom was 
telling the truth. He never dreamed of doubting 
his veracity. In fact, Tom had yet to tell his 
first lie. 

‘‘ Why did you go down to Mr. McCann’s 
and change it, and then buy peanuts ? ” 

“ ’Cause pa never lets us keep more’n five cents 
when anybody gives us any money. We wanted 
to get our full ten cents’ worth this time; didn’t 
we, Gerald ? ” 

‘‘ You had better go to your play-room now. 
Father will see to this when he comes home.” 

Tom and Gerald went to their play-room and 
were quiet for some time, content that they had 
saved the precious bag of nuts. William had re- 
sumed his books in his room. Nothing disturbed 
the summer stillness about the house. 

After about half an hour, William heard a 
timid rap at his door, and Master Tom sidled into 
the room. He was blushing and had a nervous 
manner very unusual with the winner of numer- 
ous games of baseball and the hero of the gypsy 
adventure. 

‘‘Well, sir?” asked the big brother. 

Tom began timidly : 


MR. McCANN 


127 


William, we will let you keep two dollars 
if you won’t say anything to pa when he comes 
home.” 

William paused a moment,- not catching the 
purport of the proposition immediately. Then, 
with as stentorian tones as he could command : 

“ Get out of here, you young conspirator ! ” 
he ordered. 

Master Tom went, nor stood upon the order 
of his going. He fled precipitately. 

A quarter of an hour later another gentle 
knock was heard. 

Come in.” 

The same blushing face appeared. 

What’s the proposal this time. Tommy?” 
asked William. 

Gerald and I have been talking about this, 
William, and we will let you keep three dollars 
if you won’t tell papa.” 

There was a second very unceremonious dis- 
missal. The young man was very much amused, 
but he took good care not to let Master Thomas 
see it. Tom felt in some way he had the right 
of disposal of what belonged to him and Gerald. 

It so happened that Mrs. Losely was making 
calls that afternoon, and did not return until 
quite late. It was no unusual thing for the doc- 
tor to be detained beyond meal-times by his 
patients. The children of the household that 


128 


MR. McCANN 


night had their evening meal without their 
parents. 

William considered the whole affair too good 
to keep. Before bed-time he had informed his 
father and mother of the occurrences of the day. 

Before retiring for the night the children came 
to kiss their father and mother good-night, and, 
according to the beautiful custom in many Cath- 
olic families, kneel for their parents’ blessing. 
When Tom knelt to his mother, she said to him : 

“ Has my boy done anything to-day of which 
he might be ashamed ? ” 

Tom could not stand this. He gave one quick 
glance at William. He could bear a scolding, 
or in extreme cases a whipping, but not this. 
Somehow he felt the injustice of the implication. 
He burst into sobs and rushed upstairs to his 
room. 

Less than an hour after, when William had 
not retired many minutes to his room, his door 
was silently opened and a head appeared. It 
was Tom’s. 

‘^Smarty! smarty! smarty! You gave me 
away, didn’t you ? Smarty ! ” and before the 
young man could catch him the intruder was 
gone. 

The grave dignity of manhood is sometimes a 
great burden when only recently assumed. The 
dignified young graduate lay back on his bed 


MR. McCANN 


129 


and indulged in a most undignified — in fact, 
perfectly boyish — burst of laughter. He re- 
gretted for the moment the great burden of his 
years, and he longed to be able to throw off at 
least ten, and for half an hour to make himself 
the same age as Tom and “ have it out ” with 
him by means of an old-fashioned pillow fight. 
Just then the burden of his dignity actually op- 
pressed him. 

The next morning the young medical student 
took no notice of the episode until after break- 
fast. He then called Tom out to the veranda. 

The little fellow came with a troubled look and 
a suspicious quivering of the lips. 

“ So you called me — ’’ William began, but 
seeing the piteous look of distress on his broth- 
er’s face, he immediately became touched. He 
felt a strange lump in his throat at the sudden 
knowledge that he possessed a superiority that 
could inflict pain. After all, he loved his little 
brother very dearly. His assumption of su- 
periority was only very superficial. He was, at 
heart, still as much a real, true boy as were his 
younger brothers, and just because he was so, 
he was warm-hearted, generous, loving, and 
hated the very appearance of anything like mean- 
ness. 

‘‘ Oh, Willie! ” began Tom, “ I was real mean 
last night, and after I called you names I couldn’t 


130 


MR. McCANN 


go to sleep until I promised the gentle Jesus that 
I would beg your pardon, and I didn’t mean it, 
and I — I — was mad — and I — ” 

He never finished. William caught the manly 
little fellow up in his big, strong arms, and in 
a moment was wiping away the tears, and had 
hard work to keep back his own. 


CHAPTER XVII. 


tom’s luck 

T om was too young to go to college. Wil- 
liam had already been graduated, but he 
was ten years older than his brother. 
Owing to the great tales Tom had heard his 
brother tell ever since he could remember, of the 
grand doings at the big place, his one ambition 
was to become big enough and old enough to 
attend there. 

He looked forward longingly to the time when 
he would be allowed to enter the enchanted 
ground of the big college yard, and to pass un- 
challenged through the big college gates. 

What mysteries those hitherto unexplored 
class-rooms were to the little fellow’s imagina- 
tion! How he watched, on going and coming 
from the Sisters’ academy, with a feeling akin 
tO' envy, the big college boys freely come and go. 
And oh! the glory of wearing that red college 
cap with its golden monogram! 

Many a time he questioned his mother for the 
why and the wherefore of his exclusion. In his 


132 


TOM^S LUCK 


own way, and after his own fashion, he regretted 
that he was so young and so small. 

“Why don’t they let me go, mamma? Do 
you think they’ll let me go next year? If I am 
not big enough yet. I’ll be big enough next year, 
won’t I?” and Tom would stand by the side of 
his mother’s rocker and try to look very tall. 

“ Be a good boy at the academy,” said his 
mother one day, “ and if you bring home a good 
report this afternoon, I have something good to 
tell you.” 

“ Oh ! mamma, tell it to me now. I’ll be good 
all the same, sure. Does Jane know, mamma?” 

The artful youngster ! He knew full well 
that if Jane knew he could wheedle and worm 
the secret from her. 

“ No, Jane knows nothing about it,” said his 
mother. 

“ Mamma dear, tell me now,” said Tom, as he 
pursed up his lips for a good-bye kiss. 

“ No; wait till evening, and bring home a good 
report.” 

So Master Thomas Losely, after a diplomatic 
visit to the kitchen, either to make sure Jane did 
not know or to assure Jane that he was not hun- 
gry, with his little reefer coat buttoned up under 
his chin to keep out the chill September air, and 
his little sailor cap crowning his perennially 
tousled hair, trudged off to the academy school 


TOM’S LUCK 


133 


in a state of high excitement, which lasted all 
day and which was really against his chances of 
being able to bring home a favorable report. 

The Sister who taught Tom’s class saw there 
was something unusual that day in his spasmod- 
ically violent attempts to learn his lessons, and 
in his no less extraordinary periods of distrac- 
tion. 

When the little man came, at the end of the 
school day, to ask for his verbal report (which 
Mrs. Losely always exacted of her children), 
the Sister saw an extraordinarily anxious look 
in the usually bright, sunny face. Suspecting 
that something important at home depended on 
her report, she said : 

“ You may say you were good. Tommy.” 

She was rewarded by seeing the sunshine 
break out at once in merry ripples over the boy’s 
face. In a moment he was dancing with glee. 
In the next he made a rush for the door. 

Tommy! Tommy Losely!” 

^^Yes, Sister.” 

Have you forgotten something ? ” 

Oh ! I didn’t think. Thank you. Sister. 
Good-evening, Sister,” and the little fellow ex- 
ecuted a Chesterfieldian bow which his sister 
Esther had taught him. Twenty seconds later 
he was scampering as fast as two little legs could 
carry him toward home and mother. 


134 


TOM^S LUCK 


Throwing his hat and his books on the floor, 
and his arms around his mother’s neck, the young 
whirlwind scarcely took time to give her the 
usual home-coming kiss. 

“ What you going to tell me, mamma ? 
Quick.” 

“ Patience, my son. First, has Tom been good 
at school to-day ? ” 

“Oh! yes, ma. Sister Juliana said I might 
tell you I was good. But my I she looked straight 
into my eyes, and I thought she was going to 
say no. Then she looked awfully funny at me 
and said yes.” 

Mrs. Losely made a good guess at what had 
happened, and smiled. 

“ Well, as you bring home a good report, I 
must keep my promise. You are now eight 
years old, and you know you have not yet learned 
how to go to confession. Next May I hope you 
will receive your first holy communion. But you 
must learn how to go to confession first. Isn’t 
that so? ” 

“ Yes, mamma dear.” 

“ So, Father Fowler has no objection, and 
Father Wells of the college called yesterday, and 
you are to go to the college for instruction in 
the first-confession class.” 

Little Quicksilver opened his eyes wider than 
he had ever opened them before in all his life. 


tom^s luck 


135 

The portals of the college were open to him ! It 
was as if paradise were free to him. Not the 
cause of his going into the college, but the fact 
of his going there was what entranced him. 

For a moment the great news made him silent. 
He could not realize his good fortune. To be 
allowed to go into the great yard, to pass the 
great gates unchallenged! 

“ Oh I mamma ! ” he exclaimed, after an un- 
usually long silence for him. “ Hurrah I and 
may I go into the big yard ? And oh ! shall I go 
into the college too ? ” 

He could not yet seem to realize all his good 
fortune. 

‘‘ And shall I be with those big boys, too, 
mamma ? ” 

“ Of course you will go to the yard as well 
as to the college. But you will not meet the big 
boys, or many of them, for they will have gone 
home when you are to go. You are to go three 
times a week, at half past three.” 

The delight of having permission to enter the 
ground so long forbidden to him was a little 
dampened when Tom learned that he would not 
meet any of the college boys, many of whom 
he pictured to himself at this period of his life 
as the greatest men of the world. 

He had enough, however, to keep him excit- 
edly talking till supper-time, and long after. It 


TOM’S LUCK 


136 

is safe to say that when Tom Losely laid his 
curly head on his pillow that night there was not 
a happier boy in all the great metropolis. 

Father Wells was so good a manager of small 
children that at the request of several parents 
in the vicinity he had been persuaded to under- 
take this extra work. He saw at the first meet- 
ing that the novelty of the situation precluded the 
possibility of giving anything like an instruction. 
He spent some time in getting acquainted with 
his young charges, told them a few stories, as- 
sured them all that when they were old enough 
they would be admitted as students, and then 
showed them over a great part of the college. 

For the first week the college and grounds 
were, to Tom Losely, a veritable fairyland. All 
was strange and wonderful. His admiration 
was about equally divided among the gymnasium, 
the museum, with its wonderful animals, and the 
beauties of the students’ chapel, with a slight in- 
clination in favor of the first. Well, Tom was a 
ball-player, as we know. Wonderful tales the 
boy told his father and mother and Gerald and 
Leonard and his sister on his return from his 
first few visits. It was a fine trait in Wiliam’s 
character that during all this period of Tom’s 
gushing enthusiasm he remained speechless, al- 
though he was an old student of the college. 


TOM^S LUCK 137 

He did not want to spoil his little brother’s 
pleasure. 

The class progressed favorably. The boys 
were earnest and intelligent. Father Wells one 
day gave them a clear and simple talk on the 
malice of sin. After explaining the wickedness 
and ugliness of it, and pointing out quite graph- 
ically the mercy of God in instituting the Sacra- 
ment of Penance, he showed how dreadful a 
thing it was to remain in sin even for one night. 
Might not God call the soul to judgment that 
night? Then if it were found to be in sin it 
would never see God or the Blessed Mother in 
heaven. 

Tom was deeply impressed, listening atten- 
tively to all that was said. That evening he did 
not go straight home, but walked up and down 
the big yard with another member of the class. 
That boy was Harry Quinn, who was about 
Tom’s own age. 

“Did you hear what Father Wells said?” 
asked Tom. 

“ Yes, he talked about the danger of staying 
in sin for one night,” said Harry. 

“ Yes, and he said if one should die that way 
he would never go to heaven.” 

“ Nor ever see the Blessed Mother,” continued 
Harry. 

“ Well, Fm afraid,” remarked Tom. 


138 


TOM’S LUCK 


“ Why?^’ 

’Cause I have done something very naughty,” 
came the ingenuous confession from the little 
fellow, “ and I can’t go to confession yet, ’cause 
Father Wells says we have to wait two weeks 
yet ! ” 

“ My! ” said Harry Quinn. 

“What shall I do, Harry?” asked Tom, in 
perplexity. 

“ I don’t know. Was it very naughty? ” 

“ Awful ! ” 

There was a long pause. Both felt like cry- 
ing; Tom, from the real perplexity of the case, 
the other from sympathy. Tom dug his toe into 
the gravel. The other performed a similar op- 
eration with his heel, but both were unable to 
escape the dilemma. 

“ You can’t go to Father Wells — ’tain’t time.” 

“ Sure,” said Tom, and the hole in the gravel 
became larger. 

“ Well, then, I think — I think you had bet- 
ter tell your mother,” said Harry. 

“ Tell mamma ! ” 

“ Yes, that’s the next best thing; but say, was 
it very bad?” 

“Yes, it was dreadful.” 


CHAPTER XVIII. 


HOW TOM SETTLED IT 

H arry QUINN, after he had given our 
young friend such sound advice, went 
home, leaving Tom to think the matter 
over as he paced up and down the great yard 
of the college. Tom Lx)sely was a boy who had 
many good qualities, one of which was sturdi- 
ness of character. It is true, he would escape 
out of a window to play a game of ball, or use 
any amount of diplomacy or finesse with Jane 
for cookies, and lunches, and tarts, but behind all 
the mere tricks and pranks of boys there was a 
genuineness of character which always accom- 
panies delicacy of conscience. 

After an unusually long train of thought, for 
him, Tom Losely determined on the “next best 
thing.” He would tell his mother everything. 

That evening the boy was unusually silent at 
supper. His mother noticed by his troubled look 
and subdued air that there was something wrong, 
but, like a wise woman, waited for developments, 
which she felt sure would come. 

Presently the boy who had done “ something 

139 


140 


HOW TOM SETTLED IT 


awful ” came into the sitting-room. He stood 
at the opposite side of the table, his chin resting 
on his breast. 

“ What is the matter, Tommy? ” 

The boy hung his head, but did not speak. 
There was a look of deepest trouble on the 
usually bright and happy face. His mother took 
him on her lap, gently stroked his shining hair, 
but did not speak. With that silent tact, which 
only a mother can exercise, she was giving him 
courage to speak. Whatever the trouble was 
now, she saw that it was different from Tom's 
disobedience, which was repaired by punishment 
and acknowledgment. She saw, although she 
did not yet know the cause, that this was a crit- 
ical moment in the boy’s life, one of those mo- 
ments in which character is moulded and shaped 
for a life-time. 

“ Father Wells said to-day, mamma,” began 
Tom, with that determination which was char- 
acteristic of him, and yet quite timidly, that it 
was a dreadful thing to remain in sin even for 
one night.” 

“ Yes, my child, that is true,” said Mrs. Losely, 
her cheek resting on the boy’s head. 

“ And if one should die, then he would never 
see God or the Blessed Mother.” 

“ Isn’t that true. Tommy? ” 

“Yes, mamma, and I’m — afraid to go — 


HOW TOM SETTLED IT 


141 


(something suspiciously like a sob) — to go to 
bed to-night — ’cause I can’t go (sob) to con- 
fession yet, and I done — I done — a — awful 
thing.” 

Tom threw his arms around his mother’s neck 
and buried his face in her bosom. Then she let 
him cry. Then : 

What has my little boy done ? ” in almost a 
whisper, but oh ! so encouragingly gentle. 

I — I don’t — like — to say.” 

“ Don’t be afraid. Tell mamma. What has 
her boy done?” 

He did not speak. She let him take his time, 
meanwhile softly stroking his head. 

After a while he said, in almost a whisper : 

“ Mamma — I — I went down to the grocery 
store yesterday — ” 

Yes, my child, I remember I sent you to Mr. 
McCann’s.” 

^^And — I — and I — I stole—” 

What did you steal ? ” 

I stole — a — a fig.” 

The confession was made! The child wept 
and sobbed on his mother’s breast as if his little 
heart would break. The mother let him weep 
on that safe resting-place until the first gust of 
sorrow was passed and her own emotion was 
under control. She threw her arms around the 
grief-stricken boy and let him cry. Her own 


142 


HOW TOM SETTLED IT 


eyes, as she looked down on her child’s curly 
head, were not unmoistened. Raising them to 
heaven, she silently prayed that he might always 
retain such tenderness of conscience. She saw 
this was no time to tell him the difference be- 
tween a venial and a mortal sin. 

“ You know it is very wrong to steal? ” 

“ Y-yes, mamma,” came the stifled reply, be- 
tween the sobs. 

“ And you will never do such a thing again ? ” 

“ N-no, mamma.” 

“ Now, then, kneel down here at my knee and 
make an act of contrition.” 

This was done with as much distinctness as 
his sobs and tears would permit. It was dis- 
tinct enough, certainly, for the Recording Angel. 

Now, you know, my brave boy,” said his 
mother, “ you must make restitution. Do you 
know what that means? ” 

“Yes, mamma — to pay back. But I didn’t 
have to pay back to papa the ten cents when I 
bought the peanuts.” 

“ No, my son ; that was different. Here you 
stole — oh! isn’t that an ugly word. Tommy! — 
while there the money was actually given to you 
boys. It is even yours now in papa’s bank.” 

“ Yes, mamma.” 

“ V ery well. So you will have to pay the 
price of that fig to the grocery man out of your 


HOW TOM SETTLED IT 


143 

own money from your tin bank. Are you will- 
ing, Tommy, to do this? ” 

Yes’m.” 

Very good. To-morrow morning you shall 
go over to the grocery store.” 

The morning came, and with it the unpleasant 
duty for Tom. He had the strength of his moth- 
er’s kiss as he started out on his errand of jus- 
tice. 

Now, Master Tom Losely was a shrewd boy 
in his own way. During the short journey to 
the grocery store of Mr. McCann he had arrived 
at the correct conclusion, by some occult process 
of reasoning known only to boys, that he was 
not bound to pay more than the value of the 
fig. The great difficulty was to find out the value 
of one fig. 

Arrived at the store, he felt extremely awk- 
ward. He hung his head in the same manner 
as he had done before his confession to his 
mother, yet he was determined to pay no more 
than the fig’s value. 

He took his stand near the grocer’s front 
counter and waited. Seeing that Tom was not 
being waited on — there being a good many cus- 
tomers in the store at the time — Mr. McCann 
went over to his favorite. 

“ Well, my little man Tom, what can I do for 
ye to-day? ” 


144 


HOW TOM SETTLED IT 


Please, Mr. McCann, how many figs for a 
cent ? ” 

The merchant was surprised. He had never, 
perhaps, in his life been asked such a question. 
Accustomed to sell figs by the pound or the box, 
it is certain he had never calculated the cash 
value of an individual fig. 

The storekeeper stood upright behind the coun- 
ter and scratched the back of his bald head, 
staring perplexedly at the miniature customer, 
who, with one hand tightly grasping his cent, 
and the other behind his back, closely watched 
the grocer’s face. Mr. McCann thought Tom 
had a cent to spend and wished to make a change 
from the usual candy stick or chewing-gum. 
Without really calculating the number of figs 
which a cent’s purchasing power would procure 
for the boy, and being, as we know, very fond of 
the bright little fellow before him, whom he de- 
sired to send away satisfied, he said to him : 

Oh! I suppose five or six.” 

Now, Tom Losely’s arithmetical proficiency 
was not of the most advanced order. He began 
to think, and the more he thought the more con- 
fused he became. 

But mamma said I was to pay for it out of 
my own money.” 

This was worse than Greek to the busy busi- 
ness man. Eccentric as he might be, he was, 


HOW TOM SETTLED IT 


145 


however, a close observer, and he saw that tears 
were very near. He became greatly interested. 

“ Tell me all about it, my boy,” he said, kindly. 

Tom, silent, hung his head. 

Don’t be afraid, my child. Tell me every- 
thing. It’s me that would be glad to help ye,” 
said Mr. McCann, more than half suspecting the 
truth had in it more of tragedy than comedy. 

Tom’s lips began to quiver. Little pearls 
rolled down his cheeks one after another. With 
the tears, he found his tongue and told the big, 
kindly man before him the same story he had 
related to his mother the night before, and ended 
by saying : 

And I don’t know, sir, how to pay for the 

When the tale was told, the old grocery man 
felt the strongest inclination to take the little 
fellow up in his arms and press him to his heart, 
which neither time nor business cares had alto- 
gether hardened, but a broad, marble-top counter 
was between them. Some people may lose their 
hair, their sight may grow dim, and increasing 
years give them increasing adipose tissue, yet 
they never grow old. They remain young till 
they die of old age. The emotions and thoughts 
and buoyancy of youth are perennially fresh in 
them. You can generally know such by their 
love of children. When Mr. McCann spoke, his 


146 


HOW TOM SETTLED IT 


voice was decidedly husky. Strange how hard 
it is to clear one’s throat sometimes. 

“ Now, Master Tom, let me see if we can’t 
settle this affair. Sure, it won’t be so very hard. 
I’m thinking. Now pay attention, as me old 
school teacher in Ireland said many a time to 
me — pay attention ! Don’t ye see, me boy, if 
ye buy six figs for a cent, an’ ye gives me back 
wan o’ thim, which belongs to me, ye’ll restore 
what was not yours? I gets what was me own, 
an’ ye have five figs for your eating. Sure, the 
sol-u-tion is aisy.” 

Tom understood now. He invested in a cent’s 
worth of figs and returned one, and that is how 
he settled it. 


CHAPTER XIX. 


tom’s sacrifice 

MAMMA,” shouted Tom Losely 
I I enthusiastically, one afternoon near 
the end of September, as he ran into 
the house after school, “ Father Fowler an- 
nounced to-day that there would be Benediction 
every night all next month in honor of the Holy 
Angels, and I’m to serve all the time. Hurrah ! ” 
As usual, he threw his hat into a corner and 
his books and slate on the lounge. He then 
made a dive for his mother’s favorite rocker, 
which he began to rock vigorously, testing the 
rockers severely, and also his own equilibrium. 

I am glad to hear that, my son,” said his 
mother. “ You know that October is the month 
dedicated to the Holy Angels, and our parish 
church is under their patronage.” 

‘‘Yes, ma; and if I serve all next month the 
Sister will have to excuse me some of my les- 
sons, won’t she? They’re horrid, anyhow.” 

“ I hardly know,” said Mrs. Losely. “ Let 
us consider the matter. Certainly you must not 
disappoint Father Fowler if you can help it.” 

147 


148 


TOM’S SACRIFICE 


Of course not, mamma.” 

“ Isn’t it a great privilege to serve at the 
altar?” 

“ Sure it is, mother.” 

“ And isn’t it a duty you have to perform to 
prepare your lesson each day?” 

“ Ye — es, ma’am.” 

The answer came more slowly than the pre- 
vious one. Tom was sharp enough to see where 
the conversation was drifting. He did not want 
to be caught in a trap. 

“ Which do you think should come first — the 
duty or the privilege ? ” 

Tommy, aged eight, took refuge, like many 
an older person in a quandary, in silence. 

“ Well, which? ” asked his mother, after a suf- 
ficient pause. 

Tom did not want to commit himself to any 
positive statement, but as his mother did not 
speak again, he was forced to make some reply, 

“ But if I am to serve every night, how am I 
to get my lessons ? ” 

I think we can manage that, my son.” 

This was ominous for poor Tom. Besides, 
he knew from past experience that his mother’s 
arrangements had to be followed. 

When do you usually begin to study them ? ” 

“ About half past seven, ma, until nine, and 
then you make me go — to bed,” 


TOM’S SACRIFICE 


149 


And what do you do before half past 
seven ? ” 

She knew quite well, but wanted him to an- 
swer. 

Why, you know, mamma. Siss and I and 
Gerald have some fun, of course. It is neces- 
sary for children to have some rational amuse- 
ment. All work and no play makes a boy a 
blockhead.’' 

These last two sentences Tom had heard his 
father use, and he was sharp enough to take 
them up. 

“ I go over to Fred Thorncroft’s sometimes. 
Don’t we play parlor croquet with the Gateses, 
next door, and don’t we — ” 

I know, my boy, very well. Now, I have a 
proposition to make to you. If you want to 
serve at Benediction all next month, you will 
have to give up some of your play-time after sup- 
per, and devote it to your home tasks.” 

At such a prospect Tom’s face looked rueful. 
Knowing from previous successful attempts — 
if we except the one when he fell into the mud 
— the power of an appealing eye, he tried to 
catch hers. For the second time in his life he 
failed. His mother continued : 

“If you get at your books at a quarter to 
seven, you will be able to study for three-quar- 
ters of an hour, and when you come home from 


TOM’S SACRIFICE 


150 

church you will have another three-quarters. 
That will make up the usual time. Is my boy 
willing to make this sacrifice in honor of the Holy 
Angels during the coming month ? ” 

But, mother — ” began the boy, who was 
reluctant to give up his play-time. 

“ There is no ^ but ’ in the case, my son. You 
must be willing to make the sacrifice or you will 
not have the honor of serving at the altar. 
Which do you choose?” 

Tom did not answer at once. He was think- 
ing hard, trying to find a way of escape. Sud- 
denly a peculiar light shone in his eyes. He 
would appeal to Father Fowler, his confidential 
friend and adviser in all his little troubles and 
difficulties. 

He had a vague hope that the Father would 
solve the difficulty for him in such a way that 
he would not lose his play-time or forfeit his 
serving at the Benediction. 

“ Mamma, I will see my Viser,” said the 
boy, with almost comical gravity. Mrs. Losely 
smiled and said : 

Very well; Father Fowler is at home, for he 
passed the window a moment ago. Be back for 
supper.” 

With a bound the merry-hearted boy was out 
of the house, and in less than three minutes he 
w^as skipping up the stairs to Father Fowler's 


rOM^S SACRIFICE 


15I 

Study. The priest’s housekeeper never showed 
Tom into the parlor, as she did other visitors. 
It would have been of no use. He would not 
have stayed there. 

‘‘ What’s the matter to-day, Tom'? ” asked 
Father Fowler, as the boy stood, hat in hand 
and panting from his rapid ascent of the stairs. 

“ Lots, Father. Mamma wants me to give up 
my play-time after supper all next month, so I 
may serve at Benediction without getting off my 
home lessons.” 

It must be confessed against Master Thomas 
that he did not put the case exactly as it stood. 
Father Fowler surmised this. 

Well?” 

“ Isn’t that too hard. Father? Can’t I serve 
without doing that ? ” 

Can you serve and get your lessons too ? ” 

“ Some of them. Father.” 

“ All of them ? ” 

I don’t know.” 

Yes, you do, Tom. You know how long 
they take each night.” 

“ But the Sister would excuse me if you told 
her you wanted me to serve. Father,” pleaded 
Tom. 

That would not do, my boy. We must not 
neglect duty for more pleasing occupations, even 
to attend Benediction. It is more pleasing for 


TOM’S SACRIFICE 


152 

you to serve than to pore over your spelling and 
arithmetic and geography I grant, but to pore 
over these things is, just now, Thomas Losely’s 
duty. You — have — to — do — what — your 
— mother — wants, Tom.” 

This last sentence was given slowly and with 
decision. There was a tacit understanding that 
when the priest used the slow, judicial tone, as 
now, it was “ the adviser ” speaking, and the 
pronouncement was always taken as final by Tom 
Losely. 

“ All right. Father,” was the answer, slowly 
given. 

“ That’s right. Now, let me tell you some- 
thing. No sacrifice was ever made without 
bringing its own reward in some way or other. 
Watch and see whether the Holy Angels, before 
the month is out, do not reward vou in some 
manner for what you do for them. Now, Tom, 
I’m hungry; won’t you stay and have supper 
with me ? ” 

“No, thank you. Father; not to-night,” an- 
swered Tom, somewhat regretfully. He knew 
what Father Fowler’s suppers were, or what he 
made them on these occasions. “ Mother told 
me to be back for supper.” 

“ All right. God bless you. See if my words 
do not come true.” 

The boy ran at full speed home to the next 


TOM^S SACRIFICE 


153 


block. Rapid action was necessary for Tom, 
just now. Like a whirlwind he rushed into the 
room where his mother was quietly sewing. 

‘‘ It’s all right, mamma dear.” 

What did your ‘ adviser ^ say ? What did 
you decide upon ? ” 

“I give up my play-time — ” and Tom felt 
very brave just then. 

“ Well done, my son ; spoken like a true Cath- 
olic boy,” said Mrs. Losely, who knew how to 
encourage as well as direct. 

“ But only for October, though,” stipulated 
the boy, who seemed to become suddenly im- 
pressed with the magnitude of his sacrifice, “ and 
besides, the Invincibles ain’t playing ball any 
more for this season, anyway, so it don’t matter 
so much after all. My ’viser says yes, and I 
always do what my ’viser says.” 

For October only. In honor of the Holy 
Angels you sacrifice three-quarters of an hour’s 
play every day for a month. I am sure they will 
reward you for this,” said Mrs. Losely, as she 
drew her son to her and kissed him on the fore- 
head. Was ever a mother’s kiss or a mother’s 
blessing given unavailingly ? 


CHAPTER XX. 

tom’s presentiment 


T he next evening, as Tom walked home 
from the church a little ahead of his 
father and mother, he said to his sister 

Esther : 

“ Say, Est, both mamma and Eather Eowler 
said the angels were going to do something for 
me ’cause I gave up that play-time. Wonder 
what both of them mean, anyway.” 

Esther did not know exactly what to say. She 
was four years older than Tom, and therefore 
supposed to be four years wiser. Tom rattled 
on : 

“ My ! wouldn’t it be great if they sent me a 
wheel! But, say, Estie, honest now, are there 
such real things as angels, or are they only like 
Santa Clauses? Isn’t it only God doing things, 
and then we say it is our guardian angels ? ” 

‘‘ Thomas Losely,” said that vivacious youth’s 
sister, severely, what are you talking about ? 
How can you be so silly? ” 

“ No, but — whoever saw an angel ? and if 
you can’t see a thing, how do you know it is? ” 

154 


TOM^S PRESENTIMENT 


155 


“ Lots of people have seen angels. Do you 
see the electricity that makes the light on the 
street corner?” 

“ No, of course not. You’re silly now. Sis- 
ter Juliana says no one can tell exactly what 
’lectricity is.” 

“ But the effect is there, isn’t it ? ” 

“ Course.” 

Well, then ? ” 

That seemed to settle the argument for Esther, 
but as if driving home the point, she added : 

“ Where’s your catechism ? Don’t you know 
the chapter on angels yet ? Didn’t you pray 
especially to your guardian angel down at Un- 
cle William’s?” 

Tom knew the chapter perfectly. He began 
repeating the questions and answers from mem- 
ory, and thus satisfied his sister. Of course he 
believed in angels, but he was fond of asking 
questions. He put another which he had learned 
from George Wood. 

“ Siss, do you know why we say, ‘ Pray for 
us, holy Mother of God ’ ? ” 

“ So that we may be helped by her intercession, 
of course,” answered Esther. 

Wrong. Try again.” 

Because she is so powerful with her divine 
Son.” 

‘‘ Wrong.” 


1 56 TOM’S PRESEN TIMEN T 

“ Because she loves us so much.” 

“ Wrong again. Who’s silly now? ” 

‘'Oh! I give it up. What’s the answer? ” 

“ That we may be made worthy of the prom- 
ises of Christ. Caught you that time, didn’t I ? ” 
Tom Losely’s reward came in a way he least 
expected. The arrangement of Mrs. Losely re- 
garding his home lessons worked well. He got 
along splendidly that month. 

On the night of the twenty-fifth of the month, 
Tom had retired, under the watchful eye of his 
mother, to his own little bed-room. No reward 
had yet come to him, although he never lost con- 
fidence in the promises of the priest and of his 
mother. He imagined that if they were correct 
the angels would soon be thinking about him 
now. 

On the night in question he was unusually 
restless. His window faced the church, and al- 
though Fred Thorncroft’s house obstructed the 
view of it and of the priest’s residence, yet above 
the roof he could see the spire of the church, with 
its bright gilt cross, and the smaller spire over 
the transept. This particular night was starry 
and frosty. Tom stood gazing at the church 
roof longer than usual. He made his spiritual 
visit to the Blessed Sacrament in the church, 
which was his beautiful custom every night be- 


TOM’S PRESENTIMENT 1 57 

fore jumping into bed, and still he lingered at 
the window. 

The boy was healthy and strong, a most un- 
likely subject to be given to “ notions,” yet this 
night he was filled with uneasiness — a kind of 
premonition of coming danger, that took pos- 
session of him, and do what he would, he could 
not shake it off. Remember, Tom Losely did 
not know of such a thing as “ nerves.” The 
vague impression of danger seemed, in some un- 
accountable way, to be connected with his “ ad- 
viser” and friend, Father Fowler. The longer 
he remained at the window the stronger became 
the impression that the priest was exposed to 
some kind of danger. 

Tom jumped into bed. He tried to say his 
last prayers and compose himself to sleep. No 
sleep came, and the impression grew stronger 
and stronger as the moments passed slowly. At 
last he could stand it no longer. He got out of 
bed, dressed partly, and, barefooted, crept noise- 
lessly down-stairs to where his father and mother 
were sitting. 

Seeing her son enter in this fashion, Mrs. 
Losely hurriedly arose and asked him if he were 
ill. His father dropped the evening paper he 
was reading, in sheer amazement at the boy’s 
unusual appearance. 

“ Mamma, I can’t sleep, and I am sure he is 


158 


TOM’S PRESENTIMENT 


in danger of some kind,” were the incoherent 
words of the boy, said in a peculiar way, very 
unlike his usual direct manner. 

“ Sleep ! danger ! what’s the child talking 
about?” exclaimed his mother, in some alarm. 

“What’s up, Tom?” asked Dr. Losely. He 
thought that perhaps Tom had been in a fight 
or something of that sort that day at school and 
was now suffering some uneasy twinges of con- 
science. 

“ I thought it was you at first, pa. But it 
isn’t you. It’s Father Fowler. Won’t you go 
and help him? Do go.” 

“ Me! Father Fowler! ” exclaimed his father, 
in his turn completely mystified. 

“ Look here, Tom. You have been eating 
something for supper that did not agree with 
you. Trot back to bed, boy, and try to sleep 
it off.” 

Tom, however, was not to be put off in that 
way. He had not come down-stairs merely to 
be sent back again. 

“ Something is wrong with him, father, and 
I feel it. I don’t know what’s the matter, but 
I am sure Father Fowler is in some danger. 
Perhaps he is sick.” 

“Bless the child!” exclaimed his mother, 
“ you saw Father Fowler to-night in church. 


TOM’S PRESENTIMENT 159 

What could be the matter with him? You must 
be going to be sick.” 

‘‘No, mamma, Fm quite well. But I feel — 
I know — Father Fowler is in some trouble. 
Oh ! father, won’t you go to him ? Oh ! please, 
do go ! ” 

There was a strange wistfulness in the lad’s 
voice that, somehow, deeply touched his father, 
who knew how his son loved the priest. The 
physician still thought that the boy had some 
crack-brained notion in his head, arising from 
an upset stomach. 

Just at that moment a strange thing happened. 
There was a sharp ring at the house telephone. 
Dr. Losely went into the next room to answer 
the call, Tom and his mother waiting in silence. 

“ Hello, central,” they heard him say. “ Hel- 
lo! Well, yes; what is it?” 

The physician heard the musical hum of the 
wire ; then a voice which he could not recognize : 

“Bring police — Father Fowler’s house — 
quick — da — ” and there was a sharp click in 
his ear and the connection was broken. 

The physician was startled by the coincidence 
of the imperfect message and his son’s strange 
announcement. He decided to act at once. He 
was sure that his family had no clue to the 
nature of the message. Not wishing to make 
his wife nervous, he announced that he had a 


l6o TOM^S PRESENTIMENT 

sick-call in the near neighborhood. Taking a 
good stout cane with him, he said in an off-hand 
way to Tom : 

All right, my boy. I have to go out, and 
I will drop around by the church. Go and jump 
into bed, and if you think Father Fowler is in 
danger, pray for him.” 


CHAPTER XXI. 


THE REWARD 

W HAT was taking place at Father Fowl- 
er’s residence? As near as all of 
them could afterward reckon, it was 
about the time that Tom Losely had jumped out 
of bed for the first time that a big-boned, brawny 
man rang the priest’s door-bell. The summons 
was answered by the priest’s housekeeper, who 
touched a small hand-bell in the hall, as a signal 
to the priest that he was wanted in the parlor. 

Father Fowler was in the midst of a psalm 
in his office when he heard the signal. He did 
not come down until he had finished it, although 
he heard the visitor below pacing the floor rest- 
lessly. In a moment he came down, in his cas- 
sock and beretta, with his finger in the page of 
his breviary where he had stopped. 

He was a slight man of medium height, and 
of a somewhat frail physique, but his face was 
finely chiseled and reminded one of a statue. 
The forehead was high and very white and was 
relieved by thick hair and heavy, overhanging 
black eyebrows. The chief charm of his face 

i6i 


THE REWARD 


162 

lay in the large, clear, piercing gray eyes — eyes 
which disclosed, not only the zeal of the priest, 
but a trained and lofty mind. His countenance 
possessed much magnetic power over his fellow 
men. 

As he entered the parlor he bowed to the 
stranger, who he saw was apparently a respecta- 
ble workingman, and motioned him to a chair. 
Both sat down, facing each other, the gas light 
falling full on the face of each. 

“You are Father Fowler?’’ began the 
stranger. 

“ Yes, what can I do for you? ” 

“ I have been wanting to see you a long time.” 

The priest bowed slightly. 

“ And I think the time has come to do it now.” 

“ Do what, my friend, may I ask ? ” 

“ Do what ? Don’t you know as well as I do ? 
I have come to kill you — to cut you into pieces. 
It won’t hurt much with this,” and the man pro- 
duced an enormous bread-knife from under his 
shabby overcoat. 

Father Fowler saw at once that the man was 
completely insane. 

He did not shrink for a moment from the 
man’s gaze. With extraordinary presence of 
mind he fixed his large eyes on those of the 
other man, who, as the priest clearly saw, had 
not been drinking, but was simply out of his 


THE REWARD 


163 

mind. The father smiled at the last remark. 
Without changing countenance or manner, he 
humored the visitor in his dangerous fancy. 

Certainly, certainly. Is that all ? That is 
soon done.” 

He saw the only way to escape was to gain 
time. The madman then mumbled something 
about the knife. The other answered in an off- 
hand sort of way : 

“ Oh ! the knife is good enough for that pur- 
pose, and strong enough too. There need be 
no trouble about that.” 

Well, we may as well set about it, then, eh? ” 
were the next ominous words — words which 
would have made the stoutest heart quail under 
the circumstances. 

Yes, yes,” replied the priest, if you think 
so. But look here, my friend; you see this nice 
carpet, don’t you? Now, that was lately given 
me by my parishioners, and if you are going to 
cut me into pieces, wouldn’t it be a thousand 
pities to do it here and spoil this fine carpet? 
Don’t you think so ? And it would spoil my fine 
wall-paper too. Now, I will tell you what we 
will do. You and I can walk over to the school 
house, and the job can be done there. You see, 
there are no fine carpets there, and it can be done 
just as well there as here, can it not? ” 

That seems a very sensible idea. It does 


164 


THE REWARD 


seem a pity to spoil the carpet, certainly. Yes, 
we will go to the school house, eh ? ” 

“Exactly! Capital! Just wait a minute, 
ril get my overcoat. It’s cold outside.” 

“ All right ; I’ll wait.” 

“ I won’t be a minute. Here’s the evening 
paper till I come back.” 

The priest left the room. He ran to his 
housekeeper, and in a whisper told her to call up 
policeman Green, a block away, and tell him he 
was wanted at the pastoral residence instantly. 

He realized that it would not do to keep the 
madman waiting too long in the parlor. He 
feared in that case he might run amuck through 
the house and perhaps kill the housekeeper be- 
fore assistance could arrive. As soon as he knew 
the message had been sent, he put on his great- 
coat and boots and came down-stairs. 

“ Excuse me for keeping you waiting,” he 
said, as if talking to an ordinary acquaintance; 
“ I had my slippers on, and had to put on my 
boots. It is too cold to go out in slippers.” 

The crazed man still held the big knife in his 
hand, while he muttered something to himself. 
The priest let him talk on as long as he chose, 
for he knew he was gaining time that way. 
After a little while the man suddenly started 
from his reverie. He stood up and came toward 


THE REWARD 165 

the plucky pastor, who thought he was going to 
be attacked then and there. 

Fixing his keen eyes on the demented man, 
he said, smilingly, and as if dealing with an 
every-day subject: 

“ My dear sir, I am really very much obliged 
to you for not spoiling this really fine carpet. It 
is not every one who would be so careful. It 
would be altogether too bad to kill me in so nice 
a room, wouldn’t it?” 

“ Yes, certainly. The school house will do 
just as well. My wife never lets me kill any 
one in the house. She’s very particular about 
her carpets, too.” 

“ Come on, then ; we will go to the school 
house,” and both went out of the front door. 
Father Fowler cast an anxious glance up the 
street. To his intense relief, he saw the police- 
man just emerging from his house. At the same 
moment he saw Dr. Losely speak to the police- 
man. They both seemed very much surprised, 
but it was afterward learned that the message 
the physician received was intended for the po- 
liceman. The telephone clerk had made a mis- 
take and put in circuit the wrong number. The 
two hastened toward the priest’s residence. 

The policeman was as yet some distance away. 
Father Fowler saw it was yet necessary to keep 


THE REWARD 


1 66 

the madman’s attention distracted. He began 
speaking of the knife: 

You are sure that knife is sharp enough, Mr. 
— Mr. — what is your name?” 

I am not going to tell you my name. It 
would do you no good. The papers won’t get it 
then. They have hounded me long enough. 
Yes, the knife is sharp enough.” 

He began gesticulating with it in a dangerous 
manner. By this time the policeman was but 
ten feet in front of the two. Making a sign for 
the policeman to pass on the outer side, the priest 
whispered hurriedly as he passed : 

“ Arrest him — insane — wants to kill me.” 

The officer gave an understanding look, and 
dropped behind. Then, quick as lightning, he 
swung around and pounced upon the man, secur- 
ing both arms. In ten seconds his wrists were 
handcuffed behind his back. The arrest was 
made so suddenly that the demented man had no 
time to resist. The bloodthirsty-looking knife 
fell clanging to the ground. 

“ Use him well. Green,” said the father. 
‘‘ Take care of him ; we will have him sent to an 
asylum to-morrow.” 

Father Fowler wiped the perspiration from his 
brow, although the temperature was near freez- 
ing. The strain had been a severe one. When 


THE REWARD 167 

all danger was past, a reaction set in. He felt 
unnerved and shattered. 

So Tom Losely’s presentiment and strange 
premonition of danger to his “ adviser ” and 
friend had something in it, after all. 

When Father Fowler heard of the strange af- 
fair, he invited Tom the next day to tea, in order 
to talk it all over. When every detail of the 
event had been thoroughly discussed and ex- 
hausted, there was a pause. 

“ Tom,” said the priest, presently, “ does it 
strike you that the Holy Angels have sent you 
any reward for the sacrifice you have made this 
month ? ” 

“ No, not yet. Father; but the month isn’t out 
yet. Maybe they’ll send me a wheel yet.” 

Had Tom at this juncture been talking to 
Jane, instead of to Father Fowler, we might have 
suspected that the last remark, under the sup- 
position that Jane had as much power over wheels 
as over tarts, was a very diplomatic one. As he 
was talking to a man whom he loved and rev- 
erenced, he is to be acquitted of any such inten- 
tion. His remark was made in all simplicity. 

“ Think again, my boy, and see if something 
has not happened.” 

Tom thought for a while. He could not re- 
member anything approaching a reward that had 


THE REWARD 


i68 

come to him. No, Tom did not know of any- 
thing. 

“ Was it not a reward to be instrumental in 
saving your pastor’s life?” 

“ I didn’t do that, Father. Papa came out 
and told the policeman.” 

“ True; but what induced your father to come 
to my assistance?” 

“ Why, the telephone call. Father.” 

“No; that was imperfect. The connection, 
he says, was broken as soon as he heard my name 
over the wire. Then, he was called up, by mis- 
take, instead of the policeman.” 

“ But wouldn’t it be enough to bring him, any- 
way ? ” 

“ Not necessarily. He might have thought it 
some unimportant message ; for you, for instance, 
to come and see me about serving an earlier Mass 
than usual, or anything like that, to which he 
would have attached very little importance.” 

“ Do you mean to say. Father, that it was the 
Holy Angels that put those thoughts into my 
head?” asked Tom, in awed amazement. 

“ I am strongly of that opinion, my dear boy. 
Almighty God is not limited in his methods of 
dealing with His children. He could use the 
angels for the purpose as well as any other of 
His creatures.” 

Tom had risen, greatly excited. 


THE REWARD 


169 

“ Sit down, Tom, and listen. There is no 
reason to discredit the opinion that He permitted 
your guardian angel to so fill your mind last 
night that you had to go down-stairs and tell 
your parents.’^ 

“ Well, then,’’ said Tom, whose excitement 
was growing, “ giving up my play-time has been 
well rewarded. Just think. Father, a few hours 
of play given up, and for that I was allowed to 
save the life of a priest, and our own priest, too. 
Reward ! Well, I should just think ! ” 

The two sat a long time in silence; the boy 
thought he saw two round drops roll down the 
cheeks of his “ ’viser ” and friend, but Tom 
wasn’t quite sure, because he had not very clear 
sight himself just then. 


CHAPTER XXII. 


FORESHADOWS 

I T MUST not be supposed that Master 
Thomas Losely was always enjoying these 
high moments, such as mentioned at the 
end of the preceding chapter. Such seldom 
come to any one. However, his October self- 
denial had done him good. The Sisters at the 
academy were well pleased with his work. This 
good state of affairs lasted up till Christmas- 
time. The good nuns had a system of sending 
home periodically reports of the progress — 
alas ! sometimes it was retrogression — of the 
pupils under their charge. 

Master Losely’s report for December was ex- 
ceptionally good. Gerald and Leonard also 
brought home a very good account of themselves 
just before the holidays, but Tom carried home 
in triumph so excellent a record a few days be- 
fore Christmas that Dr. and Mrs. Losely had to 
put their heads together to see what fitting re- 
ward Santa Claus should send our young hero. 

One thing was decided upon even before the 
official report reached home. Mrs. Losely, by 

170 


FORESHADOWS 


171 

some mysterious way known only to women, had 
learned beforehand of the coming good report. 
It may have been because she was often at early 
Mass on week-days and had a chance now and 
then to speak to the Sisters that she learned the 
secret; or it may have been some other way. 
We do not know. 

She had found out, however, Tom’s good 
work at the academy. She and the doctor, there- 
fore, decided that in reward for Tom, and also 
for Esther, who had done good work with the 
Mesdames, that they would invite the cousins 
from the country to spend the Christmas week 
with the children. 

For the country children there would be the 
novelty of a four o’clock Solemn High Mass, and 
another at half past ten, with Solemn Vespers 
and Benediction at five o’clock on Christmas day, 
besides the Christmas dinner and fun at home. 

St. Stephen’s day was to be set aside for a 
children’s party. The evening following the 
doctor and his wife would take them all to see 
a pantomime. On Holy Innocents’ day Fred 
Thorncroft, who had come home from boarding- 
school for the holidays, was to give a party. 

Besides all this, there was the old-fashioned 
custom in the Losely family of spending one 
evening of the octave at home quietly around the 
Christmas fire, baking chestnuts, cracking wal- 


FORESHADOWS 


172 

nuts, and telling old folk-lore tales. The chil- 
dren always looked forward to this evening with 
the greatest pleasure. It was always considered 
one of the greatest days of the holidays by the 
doctor’s children, and he did not doubt but that 
it would prove equally acceptable to his nephews 
and nieces. 

“ May we have a Christmas crib, papa, in our 
play-room?” asked Tom of his father a week 
before Christmas. 

“ You may, my son, if you are willing to pay 
from your own money for the evergreens.” 

Tom thought for a moment. He knew he 
had about two dollars in his tin bank. 

“ All right, papa. I’ll pay for the trees.” He 
felt like a millionaire at the moment. 

“ Esther must also contribute her share. She 
can pay for the bambino, and among you all I 
suppose there is skill enough to manufacture the 
manger. The Wise Men and the animals are up 
in the garret from last year.” 

Dr. Losely had the custom of making his 
children duly value their pleasure by previous 
self-sacrifice. How busy all the children were 
for several days before the holy feast! and Tom! 
how particularly careful he was of his conduct ! 

Was he not now a big boy, eight years old, 
nearly nine? His birthday fell on the sixth of 
January, and although he had not outgrown the 


FORESHADOWS 


m 


tradition of the chimney and the reindeer in con- 
nection with Santa Claus, yet he had an eye to 
the possibilities of the sixth of January as well 
as Christmas. 

With his dealings with Jane we have seen that 
he was not above using finesse when it served 
his turn. We are not for one moment going to 
accuse him of anything like that in regard to 
Christmas and Santa Claus or his birthday, but 
it was so strange that he should be so good just 
about this time. Just now was there ever a boy 
more prompt in rising? 

“ Children, it’s time to get up,” sounded 
father’s voice along the corridor all the year 
round. It was really remarkable with what alac- 
rity Tom obeyed just now. when all along in 
the summer, when it was much pleasanter to be 
out of doors, he was so tired, and so sleepy, and 
found it so hard to keep his eyes open. I really 
have to ask the children who read this story why 
Tom Losely acted so differently in December and 
in June. 

Did you ever hear of a boy asking his mother 
or the cook whether he should not carry in a 
bucket of coal, in June or July? Boys are not 
willing to run six or seven times a day to the 
store, a couple of blocks away, in midsummer, 
are they? Boys do not always have respect for 


i;74 FORESHADOWS 

the door-mat, even so late in the year as No- 
vember. 

It is marvelous how their manners improve 
when December comes in. During this month 
Tom Losely, for instance, would not so much as 
dream of walking on the carpet in the hall with- 
out the most careful cleaning of his shoes of 
every particle of mud on the door-mat outside. 
What makes this change in boys and girls — 
especially in boys — in the month of December ? 
It is a great puzzle to some people. You children 
know. You must tell us older people the reason. 

There was another mysterious thing in the 
very atmosphere in which Tom lived just now. 
He knew very well that his father once in a while 
went over to the priest’s house and spent an hour 
or two in the evening there. Once in a very 
long time Father Fowler would come to dine 
with his father and mother and William. This 
was very seldom, but twice lately, when he had 
come home from school in his hurricane fashion, 
Tom had run against Father Fowler in his 
mother’s parlor. 

Once he had seen, from a distance, his father 
and the priest in earnest conversation on the 
street corner near the church, and although the 
youngster could not have explained it, yet he 
was what philosophers would call subconscious 
that they had been talking about him and had 


FORESHADOWS 175 

changed to a less important topic when he came 
up. 

All this set Tom Losely : Boy a-thinkin’ and 
a-thinkin’ and a-thinkin’ in true boyish fashion. 
What could it all mean ? Perhaps, after all — 
perhaps — but no, he was not going to delude 
himself with that thought. October had come 
and gone. He had received his reward, too, yet 
so different from what he had expected. Yet, 
perhaps it might be — who knows but, perhaps, 
after all. Father Fowler might — but no, Tom 
would not permit himself to form definitely his 
thoughts into words. To his loyal little heart 
it seemed like treason. And yet, after all, there 
might — 

He stopped short again, and began to throw 
at some sparrows. 


CHAPTER XXIII. 


TOM HAS AN IDEA 

E rnest and Kate and Johnny and little 
Madelaine all came up from the coun- 
try in due time. It would be a mis- 
take to imagine that these country children came 
up to town to wonder and be patronized by their 
city cousins. There was no occasion for it. 
The time has long passed in by far the greater 
number of our states, except, perhaps, in some 
very remote districts, for much distinction to be 
made between city and country children. 

It is, indeed, claimed by some who say they 
know what they are talking about that nowadays 
country children are, as a rule, better bred than 
their city cousins. In how many farmhouses are 
there not in these days telephones and electric 
lights ? Musical instruments, the best magazines, 
and many of the nicer conveniences of life are 
found there. Then those angels upon earth, 
those good teaching Sisters, are in these latter 
days almost everywhere, spreading their benign 
and elevating influence over the land like God’s 
benediction. It has been truly said that we shall 

176 


TOM HAS AN IDEA 


177 


never know until the last great day, when all 
things shall be revealed, what omnipresent good 
the religious orders of women have done for our 
country. A parish is badly off, nowadays, that 
is without its Sisters. 

Esther and Tom and Gerald and Lenny were 
thrown into an ecstasy of delight when they saw 
the cab containing their cousins stop at the door. 
All the children and their mother, and Jane also, 
waited on the door-step until they should come 
up and receive a warm welcome. 

Why did the children linger around the cab 
door ? Presently a hand was seen inside pushing 
out a good-sized wicker hamper. It was too 
large for Ernest to carry up the steps, so Tom 
rushed down to help him. 

Yet the children still lingered around the step 
of the cab. 

Come, children ; come in out of the cold,” 
called Mrs. Losely ; but the cousins did not move. 
A good-sized wicker basket was also handed out 
of the cab and put down on the sidewalk. It 
was evidently very heavy. Kate and Esther 
could scarcely lift it. 

The visiting cousins had remained silent, as 
children do when they have a surprise in store. 
The surprise came when, suddenly, from the cab 
sprang out that friend of all children, and the 
Special favorite of Tom — George Wood. 


178 


TOM HAS AN IDEA 


Dr. Losely, riding up in his buggy at that in- 
stant, jumped out and warmly shook the young 
fellow’s hand. 

“ Welcome, Wood, welcome, indeed ! I am 
very glad to see you. We will give you a pleas- 
ant week, I am sure.” 

How all the children shouted with glee when 
they saw George on the sidewalk, his handsome 
face wreathed in smiles and his eyes speaking the 
gratitude his lips were unable to express. 

That morning Tom’s father had received a 
letter from his brother, who said that so great 
was his appreciation of George’s faithful services 
that he intended to send him with the children. 

“ As I know,” the letter went on, “ you will 
gladly welcome him for the children’s sake, yet I 
beg you to be very careful, for at the least word 
that he could construe as a hint that he was not 
welcome he would vanish from your house. A 
wild horse would not keep him if he thought he 
was not welcome, which I am sure he will be.” 

The hamper contained two large turkeys ready- 
dressed for cooking. The big basket was 
George’s own present to the city children. It 
was filled with chestnuts, wood nuts, walnuts, 
and hickory nuts, which he, at odd moments, had 
gathered during the fall. 

You children will have to imagine all the fun 
they had with George, and all the fun George 


TOM HAS AN IDEA 


179 


had with them, because it is now necessary to 
relate an experience which, while it lasted, was 
extremely unpleasant for Master Tom. 

In one of the early chapters of this history of 
Tom Losely’s doings it was stated that Jane 
could, when the occasion called for it, put her 
foot down,” with a force that amounted to some- 
thing like a moral concussion. The occasion 
happened during the Christmas week, and it all 
came about in this wise : 

Tom Losely, who, as we know, served the 
Christmas Masses, had coaxed Father Fowler to 
allow his cousin Ernest to appear in cassock and 
surplice on the altar on the great feast. The 
Father finally consented, having learned that 
Ernest knew the Mass prayers very well, al- 
though he had never been present at a solemn 
ceremonial in a big, city church. Tom took 
Ernest as partner and told him what to do. The 
two succeeded very well. 

The pastor preached a short but eloquent ser- 
mon at the four o’clock Mass, recommending his 
congregation to seek out the poor and destitute 
of the parish on this holy day and supply them, 
in honor of the infant Saviour, with at least one 
good meal, so that for one day all might be 
happy. 

This recommendation impressed Master Tom 
very much, He knew he could not put the acl- 


l8o TOM HAS AN IDEA 

vice into practice that day, but he determined to 
do so some time during the week. 

Tom knew that Digger, the ball-player and dis- 
coverer of angle-worms, was very poor, living 
in a shanty not more than three blocks from his 
father’s house. 

The two boys, Tom and Ernest, after much 
consulting together, finally resolved to follow 
Father Fowler’s advice, and selected the said 
Digger as the subject upon which to bestow their 
charity. 

On Holy Innocents’ day they had watched 
Jane all day long. It was not until about five 
o’clock that she left the kitchen and went up- 
stairs to her room. Now was their time. 

Procuring a basket, they entered the pantry 
to see what they could secure for poor, hungry 
Digger. 

They saw an abundance of cakes, white bread, 
plum bread, and oranges on the shelves, together 
with a large supply of George’s chestnuts and 
hickory nuts not yet consumed. There was a 
barrel of apples, ripe and rosy, in the corner. 

A couple of oranges and several apples went 
into the basket. Ah ! here were some sweet cook- 
ies, piled high on a plate ready for the supper- 
table. A goodly share of these found their way 
into the basket. 

“ A hungry boy can’t live on cookies,” said 


TOM HAS AN IDEA 


i8i 


Tom, magnanimously; “let’s see if we can’t find 
something else.” 

Searching around, they at length found a dish 
full of patties. 

“ They must be a new kind of tart,” said Tom; 
“ let’s see what they are like.” 

He took up one of the delicate, feathery little 
pies. It was about the size of the old-fashioned 
Christmas mince pies. Breaking it in two, he 
gave half to Ernest. 

Both tasted the unknown patty. There was 
a funny, comical look in each pair of eyes as the 
two boys faced each other. “What was it?” 
each appeared to ask the other. It was extra- 
ordinarily good, whatever it was. Neither was 
long in demolishing his half. Tom thought the 
pastry had a very “ more — ish ” taste. 

“U — um! that’s good,” said Tom, smacking 
his lips in delight. 

“ What are they made of, Ernest ? ” 

“ ’Tain’t beef, that’s sure,” said the boy ad- 
dressed. 

“ I guess I know,” said Tom, as he struck an 
attitude. “ I heard pa tell ma yest’day that he 
was going down to the old Erench market to try 
to get a hunch of venison. (Tom meant 
haunch.) I do believe they are venison patties.” 

Now, Jane’s patties, and her venison patties in 
particular, were her special pride and glory. 


TOM HAS AN IDEA 


182 

She made them only on very great occasions. 
When she did make them and serve them with a 
delicious currant jelly, that was an event in the 
household. This only occurred on very special 
high days, holidays and bon-fire nights. The in- 
telligent reader will discover why they were made 
on this occasion. 

The discovery of the patties was of great im- 
portance to the boys. Wasn’t a venison patty 
or two just the thing to make the poor of the 
parish happy, as Father Fowler had recom- 
mended? Nothing could be more fortunate — 
for Digger ! 

They put eight or nine into the basket, closed 
the lid, escaped safely from the pantry and went 
out the kitchen door and down the alley in a 
hurry. 

Arriving at the shanty, Tom gave a loud knock 
on the tumble-down door. An ill-clad and un- 
tidy woman opened it. 

“Is Digger here, ma’am?” asked Tom. 

“ Digger ! Digger ! Who’s Digger ? Who do 
you mean? I don’t know any one of that name,” 
said the woman. 

“ Oh ! that’s his nick-name, ’cause he can dig 
worms for fishin’. Is Jim Colts here?” 

Jun, alias Digger, was at the door by this time. 

“What yer want, Tom Losely?” said that 


TOM HAS AN IDEA 1B3 

worthy, with some amount of pugnacity in his 
voice. 

Hello, Digger ! Ain’t seen you since base- 
ball time — since the fight,” said Tom, quite for- 
getting his errand. 

What yer want ? Are ye come for a fight ? 
If so, Tm ready,” and the incipient pugilist be- 
gan to roll up the cuffs of his sleeves. 

Shut up, you young brat. Don’t you see the 
young gentleman has a basket ? ” said his mother, 
in a half-whisper. The fire did not go out of 
Digger’s eyes, although, for prudent reasons, he 
remained silent. 

Father Fowler,” began Tom, as if he were 
repeating a class lesson, “ told us Chris’mas night 
that we was to seek out somebody and make ’em 
happy by giving them something to eat.” 

“He did so,” said the woman, “but ne er a 
one came this way, ill luck to it.” 

This was said with more or less bitterness, 
which, of course, was lost on one so young as 
our giver of alms. 

“ We’ve come, Mrs. — Mrs. Digger,” said 
Tom, as he blushed and stammered — “Mrs. 
Colts, I mean.” 

The woman waited, grim-visaged. Tom 
blurted out: 

“ Here’s some patties for you and Digger, 


184 


TOM HAS AN IDEA 


what Jane cooked. They’re good, ain’t they, 
Ernest? ” 

Ernest duly vouched for them. So good were 
they that he ardently longed for some more of 
them. The woman took the basket most ungra- 
ciously, Tom thought. Putting the eight pat- 
ties, the two oranges, the four apples, and the 
cookies on the bare table, she said : 

“ Tell your mother we are very much obliged 
to her.” 

‘‘ Oh, my! Ma don’t know nothing about it,” 
blurted out Tom. 

How’s that ? ” asked the sour-faced woman, 
sharply. 

Ernest and I — he’s my cousin — Ernest and 
I went into the pantry and helped ourselves,” 
said Tom. 

“ Ye did I Well, when ye get home there’ll 
be trouble for ye then, that’s sure. Rich folks 
don’t send round venison patties to the likes of 
us, although your father does look after my 
rheumatism for nothing.” 

Young Digger, listening intently to the conver- 
sation, and realizing in some sort of way that 
the unexpected delicacies were not altogether se- 
cure, began at once to demolish one of them, for 
which he duly received a savage “ cuff ” from his 
mother, much after the manner of an old she 
bear cuffing her cub. 


TOM HAS AN IDEA 


185 


At the woman’s really ungracious words, under 
the circumstances, Tom Losely for the first time 
began to have some misgivings. Neither of the 
boys was prepared for the storm they had 
aroused, and which burst upon them as soon as 
they reached home. 

“ Is that you. Tommy? ” called his mother, as 
soon as she heard some one com.e into the kitchen. 

Yes, ma; it’s me and Ernest.” 

Come up here at once.” 

By the tone of his mother’s voice Tom knew 
at once there was trouble in store. 

Where have you been, sir ? ” 

“ Down to Digger’s shanty, ma.” 

What for ? But wait — have you been in 
Jane’s pantry?” 

Jane held her breath for the answer. Thor- 
oughly angry as she was, in her innermost heart 
she hoped to hear a denial from her favorite, al- 
though she had at once laid the misdemeanor at 
his door. 

There was, as we have already seen, one espe- 
cially good trait about Tom. He might act 
thoughtlessly, and even knowingly do wrong ; but 
no one ever knew Tom Losely to lie. He never 
tried to screen himself from consequences behind 
a falsehood. He was very much frightened now, 
and his face was quite white. Ernest had al- 
ready begun to whimper. 


186 


TOM HAS AN IDEA 


'' Answer me, Thomas. Have you been into 
the pantry? ” 

'' Yes, ma,” said Tom, just above a whisper, 
but bravely. 

“ There ! there ! oh ! oh ! oh ! ” said the excited 
Jane, as she wrung her hands. 

“ What did you take? ” asked his mother. 

We — I took some goodies, as Father Fowler 
told us Chris’mas.’^ 

That wasn’t all,” put in Jane. 

And some of those little pies.” 

“ There ! Didn’t I tell you, ma’am, it was sure 
to be Master Tom. You naughty boy! Oh! 
you bad boy ; giving away my venison patties ! ” 

^‘Oh! Jane!” 

“ Don’t Jane me. I just think you are taking 
leave of your senses, you naughty boy. I guess 
I’ll leave, ma’am. I can’t stand such goings- 
on. 

Oh ! Jane ! Jane ! You are not going away ! ” 
cried Tom in horror, and he began to cry. He 
immediately forgot all his own misdeeds. 

“Jane! Jane dear! You won’t go away from 
us! Oh! Jane! ” The cry of distress was gen- 
uine. What was the loss of a few patties to the 
loss of Jane? She, faithful domestic, looked at 
it in a different light. What was the loss of 
Jane to the loss of her celebrated Christmas pas- 
try? Tom really loved the faithful domestic, as 


TOM HAS AN IDEA 


187 

did all the other children. Suddenly, before his 
mother could stop him, he shouted up-stairs to the 
play-room : 

“Esther, Gerald, Lenny, come quick; Jane’s 
going to run away!” 

The children came flocking down, accompa- 
nied by their cousins, aghast at such terrible 
news. They all began to cry. Esther clung 
around Jane’s neck, and Master Tom, too, man- 
aged to get up pretty close to her. 

“ What are you going away for, Jane? ” asked 
Esther. 

“ For feeding them with my venison patties.” 

“ Didn’t Father Fowler say we were to feed 
the hungry, Jane dear? ” coaxed Tom. 

“ Oh, Jane,” pleaded Esther, “ Tom didn’t 
mean to. He didn’t know. He thought he was 
charitable, didn’t you, Tom?” 

“ Sure ; and them Diggers was awful hungry, 
too. You wouldn’t let people be hungry at 
Chris’mas, would you, Jane?” 

Jane began to smile in spite of herself. The 
children’s demonstrations of affection for her 
had driven away a great portion of her anger, 
yet her ill humor was not altogether appeased. 
She did not want to surrender completely to the 
children clinging about her. Woman-like, she 
compromised. 


rOM HAS AN IDEA 


1 88 

Well, ma’am, if I stay. Master Tom has got 
to be punished for stealing them patties.” 

‘‘ Of course he is to be punished. Thomas, go 
to your room and stay there until I send for you. 
Now, Jane, it is for you to say how long his 
punishment shall last.” 

Oh ! I feel so mad I’d like to keep him there 
for a whole month, that I do.” 

Tom, holiday time though it was, with a house 
full of cousins as guests, went to his room in dis- 
grace. This was certainly hard lines for poor 
Tom, yet he was somewhat satisfied this time 
when he considered what a storm he had raised. 

He threw himself on his bed and, of course, 
had a good cry. When he listened to the merry 
laughter and the romping of the children below, 
he came to the realization that life was not worth 
living for a certain ill-used individual known by 
the name of Thomas Samuel Ignatius Losely. 

He had not been in durance vile for more than 
half an hour, when he heard a gentle rap at the 
door. He feigned sleep because he was sulky. 
He heard the door-knob turn and from the corner 
of his eye he saw some one standing at his bed- 
side with a plate in one hand and a glass of fresh 
milk in the other. 

Tommy?” 

The boy remained passive, feigning sleep. 

“ Tommy, Tommy dear.” 


TOM HAS AN IDEA 


189 


Still no answer. 

“ Oh ! I do hope the child has not been fright- 
ened into being sick/’ he heard some one say. 
This was a cue for him. He heaved a deep sigh. 

Are you sick, Tommy?” 

“ I don’t feel very good,” was the ambiguous 
answer. He then opened his eyes and saw — 
Jane. 

She could not stand to have her favorite pun- 
ished, although while she was angry she insisted 
that it should be so. She had also discovered 
that by no means all the patties had been ab- 
stracted from the pantry shelf. At her first 
glance she thought they were all gone. They 
had merely fallen from the dish, and as the shelf 
was rather high, were hidden from her sight. 

“ I’ve brought you your supper, Tommy, and 
as soon as you’ve eaten it, the children and Mr. 
George are waiting for you to play ‘ blind man’s 
bluff.’ ” 

With strange inconsistency, of which kindly 
people are sometimes capable, she had brought 
him for his supper two of those very venison 
miniature pies about which so much fuss had 
been made. 

When he saw these, Tom jumped to his feet 
in a minute. 

“ Oh ! Jane, you’re a — a duck ! ” 

It was hard to imagine why Jane had been so 


TOM HAS AN IDEA 


190 

angry at this one scrape of Tom’s, when so many 
times before he had gone unscathed. The doc- 
tor and his wife were puzzled to find a reason 
for it. After the storm had blown over, the chil- 
dren enjoyed themselves more than ever. 

“ I know something,” he said one day a week 
later to Jane, in the kitchen. 

“ What do you know ? ” 

“ Oh ! I know something.” 

‘‘Well, if you know something, what is it?” 

“ I know why you were so mad about the pat- 
ties the other night ! ” 

“You do, eh? I do not think you do. Why 
was I ? ” 

“ Oh ! I know ! ” 

“ Well, say it, if you do.” 

Tom first got near the open door. 

“ ’Cause you thought they were all gone and 
there was none left for George!” 

The broom that was in Jane’s hand was raised 
threateningly, but Tom was half-way up-stairs 
before she could get around the kitchen table. 
She called up the stairs after him : 

“ Tommy Losely, if I catch you down here in 
my kitchen for a week I’ll — give you a beating 
with this broom.” 

But Tom went down into the kitchen long be- 
fore the prescribed time. George and the cousins 
went back to the country the day after New 


rOM HAS AN IDEA 


191 

Year’s day. The flight from the broomstick oc- 
curred two days before the feast of the Epi- 
phany, which was Master Tom Losely’s birth- 
day, and, of course, it would never do for that 
young gentleman to be in Jane’s bad books on 
such a . day. 

Rushing into the house in the middle of the 
morning of the feast-day, in his usual whirl- 
wind fashion, Tom had been surprised to see 
Father Fowler talking to his mother in the par- 
lor. The good priest shook hands with his 
friend, congratulated him on his birthday, and 
soon after left. Tom did not know for certain, 
but he thought he had interrupted a conversa- 
tion between the priest and his mother about him- 
self. Then those October thoughts revived — • 
thoughts which had ceased during November 
and early December, but which had come back 
to him as Christmas approached. 

‘‘Perhaps, on my birthday — ” Tom began to 
think, but he stopped himself, and once more 
went out to throw stones at the sparrows. The 
birthday dinner was a great event. Jane had 
put forth all her skill. Tom often sighed for 
very happiness during its progress. 

His mother looked lovingly on her boy. Dr. 
Losely and William, less demonstrative than the 
women folk, kept up a strange nodding and 
winking that marvelously puzzled happy Tom, 


192 


TOM HAS AN IDEA 


After coffee and the fruit, big brother Wil- 
liam, at a nod from his father, mysteriously left 
the room. Presently, from the drawing-room, 
the family heard William give a cough as a sig- 
nal. Mrs. Losely and Esther rose. The doctor 
held the door for his wife, and as William was 
momentarily absent, that duty fell to Tom to 
allow his sister to pass. Tom had received 
many a lesson in etiquette, but to-day he was 
more punctilious than ever. 

Thus it happened that father and mother, Wil- 
liam and Esther entered the drawing-room be- 
fore him. Why were they standing before some 
object as if to hide it from his sight? 

Suddenly the four separated, two on each side, 
and Master Tom Losely saw a vision which sent 
the blood to his face, and made the lad’s eyes 
sparkle like diamonds. 

Before him, leaning against the drawing-room 
table, stood a brand new — wheel, a birthday 
present from his friend and “ ’viser,” Father 
Fowler. Happy Tom! 

We are simply incapable of expressing in cold 
words Tom’s state of mind — his beatitude. 
Nor could we describe the scene that followed ten 
minutes later over in Father Fowler’s study, but 
leave to the imagination of the reader to picture 
the happiness of Tom. 


CHAPTER XXIV. 


TOM AND GERALD 

T om and Gerald were the greatest chums 
imaginable. They loved each other very 
dearly. It was only in the summer va- 
cation, when young Fred Thorncroft was home 
from school, that the two brothers ceased to be 
inseparable. Fred was a much better baseball- 
player than Gerald. This easily explains the ap- 
parent desertion for the two months. 

Soon after their cousins had returned to the 
country, and the Sisters’ academy had begun 
classes again for the new year, there came a soft, 
heavy fall of snow, much to the delight of the 
two boys. They found immense fun in it, al- 
though it prevented them from playing marbles. 

Gerald was rather delicate. He easily caught 
cold, which sometimes settled on his lungs. The 
way that Master Tom would wade in water over 
his shoe-tops, go out of a warm room into a 
freezing temperature hatless, with his throat and 
chest exposed to the winds of heaven, and do 
many other similar pranks, without incurring the 
least harm, would make one think he was 

193 


194 


TOM AND GERALD 


weather-proof and could safely defy the inclem- 
encies of the seasons. Tom was sturdy and 
strong for his years, inquisitive, and as we al- 
ready know — a real boy. He seemed to be 
growing more inquisitive every day. 

“ Ma,” he said one day, “ why do they call 
the boy next door Harry Gates ? ’’ 

“Because that’s his name, isn’t it?” 

“ But he’s only one.” 

“ One what ? ” 

“ One Gate.” 

“ One little boy whose name is Gates.” 

“ Then he and his baby brother are the two 
Gateses.” 

“ Well ? ” 

“ Then the two doors in this room are the two 
doorses, aren’t they ? But, ma, can you play 
marbles ? ” 

“Tommy! What a question to ask your 
mother! But I think I could if it were neces- 
sary. Why do you ask?” 

“ ’Cause I want you and me to stump Gerald 
and win all his marbles. Oh ! wouldn’t it be fun ! 
I dare you, ma, I dare you.” 

The challenge was not taken up. For thirty 
seconds there was a cessation from the bombard- 
ment of young Quicksilver’s questions. The 
peace was soon broken. 

“ Where’s Esther, ma? ” 


TOM AND GERALD 


195 


Your sister has gone over to the north side 
to your Aunt Eliza’s to tea. She went before 
you returned from school. Jane went with her.” 
Can’t Gerald and I go, too?” 

“ No; neither of you was invited.” 

“ What’s ’vited mean, ma? ” 

‘‘ Being asked.” 

Can’t we ask ourselves ? Mr. Thomas Lose- 
ly, you is now ’vited to go to Aunt Eliza’s for 
tea.” 

“ What nonsense you talk ! ” said his mother, 
laughing. Where’s Gerald ? ” 

He’s out in the garden, feeding his rabbits.” 
Run out to him and play for half an hour. 
As Jane is away, I want to make some buckwheat 
cakes for your supper.” 

‘‘ Whoop ! and maple ’lasses, too ? ” 

“ Yes, you will have some maple syrup on 
them if you behave yourself and do not quarrel 
from now till supper-time.” 

Tom pursed up his lips and drew in a long 
breath with a hissing sound, indicative of antici- 
pated pleasure. All right, ma. We’ll be good 
— see if I don’t,” and with this unconscious tes- 
timony that he was generally the cause of the 
quarrels, the young madcap started for the door. 
Where are you going, Tommy? ” 

Out into the yard, ma.” 


196 


TOM AND GERALD 


“ Without a hat, and with your coat and vest 
all open? ” 

Oh, bother ! ma. I don’t want a cap. When 
I button these things up they won’t stay buttoned, 
and I can’t get ’round, neither.” 

The youngster appeared to have no trouble to 
“ get ’round,” for a minute later he had made 
half a dozen snow-balls on the kitchen porch, and 
had proceeded to attack his brother at the other 
end of the yard with them. The snow-balls flew 
in both directions rapidly. As Tom dodged well 
he was seldom hit. The kitchen door came in 
for a good cannonading, until Mrs. Losely opened 
the kitchen window. 

“ Stop that snow-balling, children. I am 
afraid you will break the windows. Go away 
from the house and play.” 

This put an end to this kind of fun. The gar- 
den was a rather long one, so when the boys went 
to the other end there was temporary quiet around 
the house. For the next half hour the two boys 
were busy building up a snow-man. 

Occasionally the mother cast a glance through 
the kitchen window to see what her boys were 
doing. 

“ God bless their innocent hearts and keep them 
good and pure,” she said, as she put the finishing 
touches to the supper-table. 


TOM AND GERALD 197 

Come, boys, supper’s ready,” she called from 
the kitchen door. 

All right, mamma, we are coming just as 
soon as we have made King Frost’s eyes,” and 
the two boys put pieces of coal in the snow head 
for eyes, another piece for a nose, and stuck a 
wooden stick for a cigar in the place where his 
mouth was supposed to be. 

They then started in a mad race for the kitchen 
door. Both rushed into the room out of breath, 
with cheeks rosy from the cold, but with clothes 
dripping wet from handling the soft snow, 

“ What boys you are for getting into mischief ! 
Your coats are wet through. For once you may 
take your supper in your shirt-sleeves. Here, 
Tommy, put them by the kitchen fire to dry.” 

It is needless to say that, with such appetites 
as building snow-men and snow-balling is wont 
to create, the buckwheat cakes vanished like mist 
before the wind. 

After supper, when grace had been said, Mrs. 
Losely remarked : 

Your father, boys, telephones that he has 
some important cases at the hospital and will not 
be home till late. As Esther and Jane are away, 
I want you both to help wash the dishes. After 
study-time, which we will make a little shorter 
to-night, we will have a game of Snap.” 

“All right, ma,” responded Tom. “You 


198 


TOM AND GERALD 


just sit in that chair. We will wash up, and you 
boss the job.’^ 

‘‘I do what!” asked the mother, with a dis- 
pleased frown. Isn’t that slang. Tommy? ” 

“Oh, bother! Forgive me, mamma dear; I 
forgot that time. I won’t use a slang word 
again.” 

Tom, the young coax, suspended the washing 
operations to climb into his mother’s lap and 
extort, by the very force of his own bright win- 
someness, the pardoning kiss. 


CHAPTER XXV. 


QUICKSILVER 

W ASHING dishes was no new work for 
the two elder boys. They were fre- 
quently pressed into service by Jane 
or their mother. Tom was even known, once or 
twice, to have volunteered, but then the prospect 
of the reward from Jane was, on these occasions, 
exceedingly bright. 

Mrs. Losely never objected to her boys’ learn- 
ing housework. In consequence of previous ex- 
perience, therefore, there was no greater catas- 
trophe this evening than a broken saucer and the 
knocking off the handle of one teacup. Not so 
bad for boys, and small boys at that. 

The study-time this evening was a period of 
comparative rest for Mrs. Losely. For the boys, 
of course, it was laborious. Tom frequently 
gave evidence of the onerous nature of the work 
by violently swinging one leg under the table 
until at last the lamp gave a great jump. Some 
other method of helping or urging the brain to 
activity had to be tried. 

He planted liis elbows firmly on the table, and 

199 


^00 


QUICKSILVER 


ran his fingers through his curly hair again and 
again, until his head resembled a bunch of furze. 

This failing of the desired effect, he thought 
he could draw inspiration from the sound of the 
cat's voice. This was produced by a vigorous 
pulling of that animal’s tail, which, by some pe- 
culiar coincidence, when inspiration was wanted, 
was always in close proximity to Tom’s hand. 
It is astonishing how means sometimes adapt 
themselves to the end. 

This evening Gerald was unusually restless. 
Generally a good, quiet student — much better, it 
must be confessed, than our Tom was — he was 
annoyed to find he could learn nothing. His 
head began to ache. There was a feverish glitter 
in his eyes and his face was flushed. More than 
once he coughed in a deep, sepulchral way that 
portended anything from whooping-cough to 
rapid consumption. Less robust than Tom, he 
had caught a bad cold while building up the snow- 
man. 

“ Mamma,” said Gerald, after about half an 
hour at his books, I can not learn any more 
to-night. My head aches, and it’s so hot.” 

Put away your books, children, for to-night,” 
said Mrs. Losely, “ and you, Gerald, lie on the 
lounge for awhile. Now, Tommy, don’t bother 
your brother, because he is not well and you may 
make him worse.” 


QUICKSILVER 


201 


Mercurial Tom was sobered for the nonce. 
He was frightened. What if Gerald should die! 
What if he should lose his chum and friend ! 
That was too dreadful to contemplate. A big 
lump rose in Master Tom Losely’s throat. 

“ Say, Ger, you ain’t going to die now, are 
you ? ” 

The thought put into words was too much for 
the little fellow, and he began to boo-hoo at the 
mere possibility 

‘‘ Stupid ! ” said Gerald, ungraciously, “ who 
said I was going to die? You’re like a girl. 
Just ’cause I got a little cold — you ain’t got 
no sense.” 

Tom felt relieved. If Gerald could talk that 
way it could not be so very bad. The tears 
passed like an April shower. 

Mrs. Losely, as soon as she saw Gerald was 
unwell, set about making some warm drink for 
him. The whole proceeding was a mystery to 
the elder brother. All he knew was that there 
was a most savory odor permeating the kitchen. 

‘‘ My ! um ! that smells good I Am I going to 
get some of that, too, ma ? ” 

“ We shall see, bye and bye,” said his mother; 
it all depends on how well you behave this even- 
ing.” 

What was it that got into Tom? Try as he 
would, he could not be “ good ” for longer than 


202 


QUICKSILVER 


five minutes at a time. Everything about the 
room seemed put there for the express purpose 
of preventing him from being ‘‘ good.” 

There was papa’s riding-whip in the corner. 
He had often cracked it before. Why could he 
not do so now ? Crack ! crack.! went the whip on 
the kitchen table. 

Mother, make Tom stop making that noise. 
He knows I’ve got a headache.” 

Thomas ! ” said his mother, severely. She 
was busy at the kitchen range, but he knew what 
the tone meant. 

He was quiet exactly three minutes. Then the 
cat once more attracted his attention. Why do 
cats wear such long tails? Cautiously creeping 
under the kitchen table, he caught that usually 
persecuted domestic animal and tried to add an 
inch to its tail. The cat objected. She evinced 
her objection in a series of strident howls, toler- 
able at night and in the distance, but unbearable 
within the four walls of a room. 

Once more Tom found himself in disgrace. 
His chance of sharing the good things his mother 
was preparing for his brother was growing less 
and less. 

His next mishap was to upset a flower-stand. 
At this he was much frightened' and expected 
condign punishment. It did not come, for his 
mother saw this was an accident. 


QUICKSILVER 203 

I didn’t mean to, mamma ; it was an accident, 
sure.” 

“ I do wish my boy would be more careful 
when I am busy preparing something for Ger- 
ald’s cold.” 

The danger was past. Hope of sharing the 
good things preparing rose again in his breast. 
His spirits rose too as the danger receded. He 
was quiet and out of mischief for fully four min- 
utes, but the imp of mischief was busy within 
him. 

Jane was a country girl, and liked to drink 
water out of a “ dipper,” as she used to do in 
her childhood. She always kept one near the 
drinking-tap. 

Suddenly a thought struck Tom Losely. He 
wanted a drink. When he had slaked his thirst, 
he took the dipper, half full of icy cold water, 
behind the lounge where Gerald was lying with 
his eyes closed. Standing at Gerald’s head, he 
let two or three drops from the outside of the 
dipper fall on the sick boy’s head. 

“ Te-he-he-he ! ” chuckled Tom. 

Whether Tom was so much amused at the suc- 
cess of his trick that he wanted to repeat it, or his 
chuckling destroyed the steadiness of his nerves, 
it is hard to say, but at that instant the dipper, 
tipped in his hand and a plentiful stream of water 
flowed down poor Gerald’s neck. 


204 


QUICKSILVER 


“ Oh ! oh ! make him stop ! He’s throwing 
cold water down my back ! ” shouted the discom- 
fited invalid. 

Scapegrace was surely in for trouble this time. 

“You naughty boy,” said his mother, “go to 
bed at once.” 

“ Oh, ma ! can’t I — ” 

“ Go ! go at once. I have a great mind to give 
you a whipping.” 

Tom had gone too far this time. He was dis- 
missed in disgrace, and to that place where a 
healthy boy hates above all others to go, if it be 
early in the evening. 

It must be admitted that Tom said that night 
a very hasty set of prayers, lacking in the usual 
devotion. In about half an hour he heard his 
mother bring Gerald to his room next to his own. 

When she had gone, Tom fell a-thinking. 
Was it right to treat poor Gerald that way; was 
it right to pull the cat’s tail; or crack the whip; 
or knock over the flower-stand, all when his poor 
brother Gerald was so unwell? 

As is the case with all generous boys, he mag- 
nified his own faults. He became more and more 
displeased with himself. To-morrow he would 
behave better; he would be extra kind to Gerald. 
He would give him all his marbles, his top, and 
his wonderful box kite. Surely that would make 
amends. 


QUICKSILVER 


205 


Nevertheless his tender conscience would not 
let him sleep, notwithstanding all these good reso- 
lutions, until he had ‘‘ made up ’’ with Gerald 
that very night. Slipping out of bed, he opened 
his door and rapped gently on Gerald’s. 

“ Who’s there ? ” asked his brother in a hoarse 
whisper. 

“ Me, Gerry. I couldn’t go to sleep before I 
begged your pardon. Cross my heart, Gerry, 
I didn’t mean to throw that water on you — 
only a few drops on your head. How’s your 
fever? ” 

“ I’m better now, Tom dear. I’ll be all right 
in the morning. I know you didn’t mean it.” 

Good night, Gerry, dear, gimme a kiss,” and 
with that seal of reconciliation, Tom, with a 
lightened heart, jumped into bed again and was 
soon in the fairyland of an innocent boy’s dreams. 


CHAPTER XXVI. 


A NARROW ESCAPE 

O NE day a few weeks after the events re- 
corded in the last chapter, Sister Juliana 
had watched Tom Losely nearly all dur- 
ing class. It was the season of the year which 
begets restlessness, for the first few warm days 
of spring had come and the academy grounds 
were dry enough for playing thereon. 

The boy had been unusually restive on this 
particular day. He had failed completely to 
repeat any one of the tenses of the indicative 
mood of the verb to love,” which was his lesson 
for that day. His spelling lesson had fared as 
badly. A new geography would have to be writ- 
ten if Tom Losely were taken as an authority 
on rivers and boundaries. He seemed full of 
mercury, unable to sit still a minute. 

He snapped his fingers (always forbidden) 
when answering, or at least when he imagined 
he knew an answer. When the spirit of mischief 
seized him, he began drawing ink figures or, to 
speak more accurately, attempted to draw ink 

figures, on the broad collar of the boy in front 

206 


A NARROW ESCAPE ’207 

of him. Sister Juliana then decided he had gone 
far enough. 

After class, Thomas Losely,” she said, 
sternly. All the boys in Sister Juliana’s room 
knew what these words meant. 

I wasn’t doing nothing. Sister, sure; I did 
nothing all day.” 

So far as studies went, the latter half of the 
sentence was literally true. 

Then you can make up for lost time after 
school,” said the Sister. 

‘‘ But, Sister, I — ” 

Never mind, now. Tommy. We’ll see all 
about it after class-time.” 

When school was dismissed that afternoon 
Tom had to remain behind. He seemed unwont- 
edly affected on this particular day, so that the 
Sister thought for a moment that perhaps she 
had been a little too severe. 

“ Tommy Losely.” 

Yessum.” 

You’ve been very troublesome to-day.” 

‘‘ — sum,” in a whisper. He was standing on 
his heels and knocking the sides of the soles of 
his shoes together. 

“ Do you not think you deserve to be kept 
in?” 

By giving a direct answer Tom would con- 


2o8 


A NARROW ESCAPE 


demn himself out of his own mouth. He evaded 
a direct reply. 

“ I want to play ball in our class against Sister 
Josephine’s room this afternoon, Sister. It’s the 
first game of the season. Oh ! we’re going to 
have great fun s’afternoon. Say, Sister Juliana, 
I’ll be good to-morrow, sure I will. Can’t I play 
now? ” 

The good nun did not respond to this touch- 
ing appeal. 

I saw a little boy in the yard before class 
this afternoon mimicking some one. Do you 
know who he was? ” 

Madcap’s eyes began to sparkle. He forgot 
his troubles and his threatened punishment. His 
face became full of laughing mischief really good 
to see. 

“ That was me, S’ter. Harry Higgins bet me 
his * tiger eye ’ that I could not take off the man 
that passes the academy every morning and after- 
noon. He lives just down the street from here. 
I bet Harry I could. Oh ! he’s such a dood. He 
wears bangs, like Esther’s, down near to his eye- 
brows, and he walks like this — ” and the young 
mimic began to imitate a mincing gait very 
cleverly. 

'' Coming to school ’safternoon, I walked up 
behind him and imitated him. Then all the boys 


A NARROW ESCAPE 


209 


laughed an’ Hig said I won the bet. Well, when 
he seed me, he turns and — ” 

“ Seed! Tommy!” said the teacher. 

Seen — when he seen me — ” 

Worse still ! ” 

Saw ! that’s it. When he saw me, he turned 
round and put his ' glawse,’ as he calls it, to his 
eye, and looked down at me like this,” and the 
young impersonator stuck a round piece of blot- 
ting paper in his right eye, elevated his elbow, 
and looked down as if he were examining a frog. 

‘‘ Then he said,” continued the boy, “ ‘ You 
are a werry wude boy to imichate your superiors, 
don’t-cher-know.’ Then I says, ‘ Thanks, awful- 
ly, Mr. — Mr. Fitzgoblins — that’s your name, 
isn’t it ? ’ Then all the boys laughed again, and 
the dood made for me with his cane and I had 
to skip. Then the horrid old bell rang and we 
had to come into school. But my! it was fun. 
Sister, and he couldn’t have caught me, either.” 

The last statement the good Sister fully be- 
lieved. She was secretly very much amused and 
had a hard struggle to keep a straight face, as 
the occasion demanded. 

When I came into the class-room you were 
making all sorts of antics.” 

“ They weren’t antics, Sister ; it was my bet. 
I was showing the boys how it was done.” 

It must be confessed that, notwithstanding all 


210 


A NARROW ESCAPE 


the sister’s care, Tom’s grammar, like his exterior 
actions on some occasions, was woefully bad. 

Just at that moment the young Quicksilver 
looked out of the window, and saw with dismay 
that the captain of his class-room nine, tired of 
waiting for him, had chosen a substitute and that 
the boys were about to begin the first game of the 
season. 

“Oh! oh! oh! Sister, they’ve put Robbie 
Smith on first base in my place an’ he can’t play 
a little bit. Oh ! our room is going to get licked, 
oh ! oh ! ” Tom actually danced around in an 
agony of disappointment. 

Finally, he cast one appealing look at his 
teacher. 

“ I think,” said Sister Juliana, slowly and seri- 
ously, while Tom’s jaw dropped in dismay, mo- 
mentarily, “ I think I will — let you off this 
time.” 

“ You will ! ! whoop ! ” 

The youngster again began to dance about the 
room, this time for very joy. 

“ And you’ll come out. Sister, and see the 
game? ” 

“ Yes. I’ll come out presently into the school- 
yard.” 

“ And you’ll shout for our room ? ” 

“Well — no — not exactly, although I want 
them to win. But I want a promise from you, 


A NARROW ESCAPE 


2II 


Tommy, before you go. I want you to promise 
to try to keep quiet in school.” 

Tom was serious for exactly seventeen sec- 
onds. That was long enough for him. 

“ All right, Sister, you just see. I’ll do my 
very hardest best, sure. Cross my heart if I 
don’t, there ! ” 

After that, any one who knows anything about 
boys will be sure that Master Tom Losely was 
in earnest. One minute more, and the mercurial, 
troublesome, fun-loving and altogether delightful 
little fellow was bounding down the stairs, three 
steps at a time and shouting at the top of his 
voice. 

The next day Tommy began his class work 
well, but his vivacious temperament prevented 
him from remaining quiet for any length of time. 
Sister Juliana, however, thought she saw an at- 
tempt at improvement, and was satisfied with a 
good beginning. The last thing this experienced 
teaching Sister would do would be to make a 
boy’s education a tragedy, although she took spe- 
cial care that it was by no means a farce, or all 
comedy. 


CHAPTER XXVII. 


MY ! IT HURTED ! ” 


HE day after Tom’s narrow escape from 



punishment was confession day at the 


^ academy. All the classes, one after an- 
other, were taken to the church, which was in 
the same block, and Father Fowler and his as- 
sistants heard the regular monthly confessions. 

Sister Juliana noticed that after the other chil- 
dren of Tom Losely’s class had said their pen- 
ance, made their thanksgiving and left, Tom 
stayed an unusual time in the church. The nun, 
who was instructing Tom for his first commun- 
ion, which was to take place at the end of May, 
was expecting some unusual development on the 
part of Tom, but she was totally unprepared for 
what happened on the following Monday morn- 


ing. 


The children were not allowed to play in the 
yard before the daily Mass in the church which 
they all attended, but each went to his or her 
class-room to review the lessons of the day until 
the bell rang for Mass. 

That Monday morning Sister Juliana happened 


"MY! IT HURTED!^^ 


213 


to go into her class-room fully five minutes earlier 
than the earliest boy was accustomed to arrive. 
Opening the door suddenly, the teacher saw Tom 
Losely standing on one leg in a corner of the 
room, with his face to the wall. On one bared 
arm was a drop of blood, midway between the 
wrist and the elbow. 

Good morning. Tommy Losely,” said the 
teacher in a very surprised voice. What on 
earth are you doing, Tommy? ” 

The boy, thus caught, blushed violently, put 
his raised foot to the ground, and hurriedly 
pulled down the sleeve of his coat. 

“ What are you doing. Tommy? ” again asked 
Sister Juliana. 

“ I don’t like to say. Sister,” said the little 
fellow, who this time appeared to be actually 
bashful — a most unusual proceeding with him. 

“ But I want to know.” 

You won’t tell. Sister?” 

‘‘ No, if you do not wish it.” 

“ Cross your heart ? ” 

‘‘I promise. Tommy. Isn’t that enough?” 

“ Well, Sister, it was — pins,” said the boy, 
who seemed very much relieved by the confes- 
sion. He evidently expected the nun to under- 
stand at once the situation. This she was very 
far from doing. 

Pins ! What do you mean by pins ? ” 


214 


‘‘MY! IT HURTED!’’ 


“ This is how, Sister. I went to confession 
Saturday afternoon. Then I began to think how 
awful wicked I was. Mocking the dood Fitz- 
goblin wasn’t right at all. Then I was naughty 
lots o’ times in school, Sister. I pricked Tom 
Steele Saturday morning, and he got a penance 
for screaming out. He didn’t give me away, 
though. He’s a brick — that’s what he is. And 
I put water down Gerald’s back when he was sick, 
and there was heaps an’ heaps of other things, 
too. So I thought I was a pretty bad boy, and 
so I tried pins.” 

‘‘You tried pins! I do not understand. 
What do you mean? You have not been swal- 
lowing them, I hope.” 

“ No I Say, Sister, Harry Gates, who lives 
next door, says when he does naughty things, 
and screams and kicks his sister when he has to 
go to bed — he says when he has said his pray- 
ers he always pinches hisself for being naughty. 
Now, it’s girlish to pinch, ain’t it? I ain’t no 
girl, so I thought the best thing when I was 
naughty was pins.” 

“ And you have been pricking yourself with a 
pin until you made your arm bleed?” 

“Just one jab, honest. Sister; and my! it 
hurted I ” 

“ I should think so. Tommy? ” 

“ Yessum.” 


215 


^'MY! IT HURTED!'^ 

You are a good boy — ” 

‘‘ Not much, Sister; but I mean to — 

“ Exactly. You mean to be in the future, es- 
pecially in view of your coming first communion. 
Now, Tommy, listen to me. You believe in con- 
fession? ” 

The Sister used a purposely doubtful tone. 

Of course. Didn’t I go to Father Wells’s 
first-confession class, and didn’t I see — ” 

‘‘ Never mind that now. You believe the 
priest has power to forgive sins?” 

‘‘ Sure. Isn’t it in the catechism?” 

And that the penance the priest gives in the 
Sacrament of Penance is a sufficient satisfac- 
tion ? ” 

“ Through the merits of Christ, Sister. That’s 
in the catechism, too.” 

Very well, then. Now I want you to prom- 
ise me one thing.” 

‘‘What is it? To give up pins?” asked the 
incipient Flagellant. 

“ It includes that. I want you to promise me 
to do nothing but what Father Fowler knows and 
sanctions.” 

“ But I’ve been awful bad, Sister.” 

“ But don’t you know and believe — ” began 
the teacher in her catechetical voice. 

“ YeSj Sister, yes. I know it all, and I prom- 


2 i 6 ^^MV! it HVRTED!^^ 

ise not to have pins again unless my Viser lets 
me.” 

By this the good Sister knew she had gained 
her point. She felt sure the promise would be 
kept. Thinking it wise, however, to make an 
impression, she said : 

“ Tommy, suppose that prick on your arm 
should get sore and you should not be able to 
play ball or anything for a month ! ” 

Quicksilver’s eyes opened wide in alarm at the 
possibility of such a misfortune. 

Do not be frightened. I do not say that such 
a thing is going to happen, although it might 
easily enough. Now I have a scheme for you, 
my child, that will answer much better. Instead 
of using pins, try to make an extra effort in class, 
especially when you feel inclined to have some 
fun.” 

Tom Losely thought for a moment. During 
that time there was much running through that 
busy little head. Sister Juliana saw him nod 
once or twice. At length he said: 

But, Sister, if the other boys see that, they 
will laugh and say I am getting to be a sissy 
boy.” 

What do you think of a boy who is not 
afraid to wound his arm with pins and yet is 
afraid of a word that another might say to 
him?” 


"MF/ IT HURTED!^^ 


217 


“ But they will laugh.” 

‘‘ Suppose they do ? I am not sure they will. 
Try it and see. If some of the worst do laugh, 
it won’t hurt you, Tom, and they will at the same 
time think all the more of you. Will you try 
it?” 

‘‘ Yes, Sister. I’ll be good in class after this.” 

‘‘ Splendid. There’s the bell for Mass. Make 
your intention at Mass this morning for this, and 
ask our dear Lord and His holy Mother to help 
you.” 

An inexperienced teacher would have thought 
that all her trouble had been thrown away had 
she been in Sister Juliana’s place, for half a min- 
ute later she saw Master Tom Losely, contrary 
to all rules, slide down the stair rail, shout to 
some other boys when he ought to have been 
silent, and almost run into the arms of the mis- 
tress of schools. Sister Juliana merely walked 
away with an amused smile. 


CHAPTER XXVIII. 


THE GREAT DAY 

I T WOULD be interesting to know each 
reader’s estimate of Tom Losely’s character. 
It is quite certain that the discerning reader 
• — one whose heart is still young, who remembers 
with a quickening of the pulse his own young 
days — it is quite certain that such a reader will 
see, notwithstanding the pranks and tricks and 
fun and exuberance of young life, that Tom is 
a real boy, a good boy, whose heart is in the 
right place. 

He may often have coaxed and wheedled Jane 
for cakes and candy. What boy has not done 
the same to his mother or some good-natured 
domestic ? He would not be a boy unless lie had 
done these things. 

Ask Tom’s mother or Dr. Losely whether they 
would not prefer the laughing, bright-eyed, mis- 
chievous lad, and a little broken furniture or a 
broken window-pane now and then, to a sour and 
surly Tom who would take a sullen pleasure in 
being alone, be sly and treacherous, with small 

p7^ 


THE GREAT DAY 219 

or no notions of honor, and unkind and spiteful 
to his younger brothers. 

We know what the choice of our boy and girl 
readers would be, and the story of Tom, taken 
from life, but without a plot, has shown him as 
he really existed in actual flesh and blood. 

He has faults. What boy has not? You may 
notice that with Tom’s faults and little wrongdo- 
ings there came uppermost nearly always that 
Catholic instinct of repairing the wrong. When 
a boy admits his wrongdoing and willingly makes 
what reparation he can, that boy is made of the 
right material to grow up into an honorable and 
loved citizen and good man. 

The spring had been partially charming, it 
having come in very early, bright and warm. 
On the last Sunday of the month of May the 
altar of Father Fowler’s church was beautifully 
decorated with lights and flowers. A very im- 
portant event was to take place that morning. 
ISPo less than twenty-seven boys and forty girls 
of the parish were to receive their first holy com- 
munion. 

Watching the procession come into the church, 
one sees the little girls, dressed in white, with 
long white veils, and their heads crowned with 
white flowers, typical of the purity of their inno- 
cent souls. 

When the girls had taken their places, there 


220 


THE GREAT DAY 


followed the orderly ranks of the boys. Almost 
the last came Tom Losely, dressed in a black 
suit, with a white flower in his coat, wearing 
white gloves and bearing an ornamented candle 
in his right hand. 

Is this the rollicking, prankish boy whose do- 
ings we have been recording? He now looks 
almost angelic in his devotion. 

Yes, that is Tom. The intense devotion of 
the solemn occasion is not the least incompatible 
with his character as we know him. Why should 
the two be inconsistent? Religion, piety, devo- 
tion are not those sombre, uncomfortable things 
some good but mistaken people would make them. 

Certainly the Losely family never cultivated a 
puritanical sombreness in religious matters, and 
every one knowing Father Fowler or the Sisters 
would know that Tom and his companions would 
never learn it from them. The boy was fortu- 
nate enough to be brought up with the bright 
side of religious life turned to him, and in after 
years he was all the better man for it. 

Tom, although not the tallest, was placed last 
in the procession at the request of his father. 
This plan was adopted so that the order of the 
ceremonies might not be spoiled and yet the 
family be enabled to do something for Tom 
which was to be a surprise and a life’s memory. 

As soon as Tom, with his companion, had left 


THE GREAT DAY 


221 


his seat to kneel at the communion-railing to re- 
ceive for the first time the Bread of Life, the 
whole Losely family followed him, so that next 
to Tom knelt his father, then Mrs. Losely, Will- 
iam, Esther, and the good domestic, Jane. 
Tom’s first communion was therefore also a fam- 
ily communion. The boy, when he saw this ar- 
rangement, was much touched, and nearly burst 
out into weeping. Indeed, there were more eyes 
in that happy family at that happy moment than 
Tom’s that were more than moist, and even Fa- 
ther Fowler’s voice was very soft and low when 
he came to the boy he loved. 

May God bless such beautiful practices. How 
Tom was blessed from that day on will probably 
form the subject of another sketch, but for the 
present we leave him on the happiest day of his 
life with the remark that such as he are the ma- 
terial from which the Catholic portion of our 
nation is drawn 

There are scores, aye thousands, of Tom Lose- 
lys throughout the land, who will in time leaven 
the body politic and stand firm for the eternal 
principles of truth and right. Some day the 
country will give the proper recognition to the 
two great factors of its uplifting — the Catholic 
family and the Catholic school. 

One more glimpse at happy Tom, and we must 
regretfully leave him. 


222 


THE GREAT DAY 


The evening of that beautiful May day was 
warm and balmy. The whole family had gath- 
ered on the lawn in front of the house. The 
exultation which Tom had felt all day had not 
died away as the gloaming approached. The 
great event of the day appeared to have changed 
him in some indefinable way. He sat a long 
time silently watching the stars, engaged in those 
wonderful thoughts of boyhood. Now and again 
there was a slight catch in his breath, the effect, 
as it were, of the lingering ecstatic happiness of 
the morning. For a time the pleasant chatter of 
the quiet conversation went on around him un- 
heeded. 

‘‘ A penny for your thoughts, Tom,” said his 
father, who thought that he had remained silent 
an unusually long time. 

Oh ! papa, I am so — so happy to-night.” 

“ Yes, my boy. This has been the greatest 
day of your life. You are now no longer a 
mere unthinking boy, but something greater and 
higher than that now.” 

And holier too, pa,” said the little lad in a 
low tone and with a kind of awe. 

That is true, my child, and you must let this 
great event influence your life.” 

Yes, pa, it shall,” said Tom, with a far-away 
look in his eyes. 

‘‘ How will you do this, son?” 


THE GREAT DAY 


223 


I am going to try to live every day, pa, as I 
lived to-day.” 

“Yes?” 

“ Didn’t our dear Lord come to me to-day, 
papa ? And I am not going to be naughty again 
— if I can help it. Oh ! I want to be good, and 
I’m going to try — ever so hard.” 

“ Good boy ! What means^will you use to that 
end?” 

“ I am going to be more faithful in saying my 
prayers, and I am never going to neglect holy 
communion. How often may I go, pa ? ” 

“ That must be decided by your friend Father 
Fowler.” 

“ All right, pa. And I am going to ask our 
blessed Mother to watch over me and make me 
grow up a good man, and then, perhaps — I — 
oh ! I don’t know — ” 

Tom Losely felt within himself a longing to 
reach that high ideal ever latent in a good child’s 
breast, but actuated now by the grace of the sac- 
rament he had received ; but being a mere boy, 
and a small boy at that, he naturally found diffi- 
culty in expressing himself. 

“And then what, Tom?” said his father, 
gently. 

“ And then, perhaps, she will — when I am 
grown up — perhaps she will let me be — a — ^ 
priest, like Father Fowler,” 


224 


THE GREAT DAY 


“ My! ” remarked his brother Gerald, who had 
overheard everything, if you want to be a priest, 
Tom, you can’t play baseball any more! ” 

“I can, too, can’t I, pa?” replied Tom, with 
extraordinary vivacity. “ I don’t have to give 
up that, for Father Fowler, my ’viser, says that 
one can be a saint and play good ball too — but 
I ain’t going to steal patties any more or tease 
Jane.” 

This last statement certainly indicated the 
strength of his good resolution. His whole pro- 
nouncement goes to show that, although our little 
friend was a different boy after his first holy 
communion, with higher aspirations and holier 
thoughts and a larger sense of duty and responsi- 
bility, still he was the same bright, lovable Tom 
Losely : Boy. 


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1 25 

In the Days op King Hal. Marion Ames Taggart. net, i 25 
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II 


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Marcella Grace. A Novel. Rosa Mulholland. Illustrated 
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Mr. Billy Buttons. A Novel. Walter Lecky. i 25 

Outlaw of Camargue, The. A Novel. A. de Lamothe. i 25 

Passing Shadows. A Novel. Anthony Yorke. i 25 

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Red Inn of St. Lyphar, The. A Romance of La Vendee. By 
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Romance of a Playwright. Vte. Henri de Bomier. i 00 

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Ruler of The Kingdom, The. And other Phases of Life and 

I 25 


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Woman of Fortune, A. Christian Reid. i 

World Well Lost. Esther Robertson. o 


25 

25 

25 

25 

25 

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75 


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Life and Life-Work of Mother Theodore Guerin, Foundress 
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12 


I 25 

O 20 
o 75 


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Visit to Europe and the Holy Land. Rev. H. Fairbanks. 


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75 

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